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THE    LIFE 


OP 


NATHAMEL    GREENE, 


MAJOR-GENERAL  IN  THE  ARMY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


EDITED      BY 


W.   GILMORE    SIMMS,  ESQ., 

AUTHOR  OF    "LIFE  OF  MAU1ON,"    "CAPT.  JOHN  SMITH,"    ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 
DERBY  &  JACKSON,  498  BROADWAY. 

1861. 


G 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849, 
By  GEORGE  F.  COOLEDGE  &  BROTHER, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  thd 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


«TERKOTYPED    BY   C.   C.    SAVAOS, 
13  Chambers  Street,  N.  Y. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


IN  examining  and  revising  for  the  publishers  the  man 
uscript  of  the  present  work,  the  editor  has  consulted 
nearly  all  the  volumes  which  promised  to  have  any  bear 
ing  upon  the  subject.  He  has  had  before  him  the  copi 
ous  biographical  sketches  of  Johnson,  and  the  several 
volumes  of  Lee,  Ramsay,  Moultrie,  Marshall,  Tarleton, 
Graydon,  and  others,  not  forgetting  the  very  graceful 
memoir  of  Greene,  from  the  pen  of  his  grandson, 
recently  published  in  the  collection  of  Sparks.  In  ref 
erence  to  the  latter  writer,  he  begs  leave  to  express  the 
hope  that  he  will  persevere  in  the  intention  of  giving  to 
the  public  a  more  elaborate  performance  on  the  same 
subject.  There  is  much  that  is  obscure  in  the  history, 
much  that  is  provocative  of  discussion,  and  needing  to 
be  discussed,  which  the  narrow  limits  of  a  duodecimo 
must  necessarily  exclude.  Who  better  prepared  than 
himself  to  do  justice  to  the  great  public  services  and 
private  worth  of  his  grandsire  1 


M116082 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory.— Family  of  Greene.— His  Early  Education.— Occupation. 
— Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution  and  Strength  of  Character  -  PAGK  I 

CHAPTER  II. 

Vouthful  Habits. — Parental  Discipline. — Progress  from  Books  to  Poli 
tics. — Military  Studies  and  Marriage  -  -  -  ...  -  20 

CHAPTER  III. 

Brittle  of  Lexington. — Rhode  Island  Army  of  Observation. — Greene 
its  General. — Is  made  a  Brigadier  in  the  Continental  Service. — Com 
mands  on  Long  Island. — Raised  to  the  Rank  of  Major-General. — Fort 
Lee. — Fort  Washington. — Retreat  through  New  Jersey. — Battles  of 
Trenton  and  Princeton 30 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Army  in  Winter  Quarters. — Greene  sent  on  a  Mission  to  Con 
gress. — Explores  the  Highlands. — Manoeuvres  of  the  British, — 
Greene  in  Command  of  a  Division. — Conspicuous  in  the  Battle  of 
Braudywine — and  in  that  of  Germantown. — Sent  against  Cornwallis. 
— Retires  with  the  Army  upon  Valley  Forge  -  -  -  •  -  45 

CHAPTER  V. 

Greene  becomes  Quartermaster-General. — The  British  evacuate  Phila 
delphia. — Pursued  by  Washington. — The  Battle  of  Monmouth. — 
The  Conduct  of  Greene  in  that  Battle. — Joins  Sullivan  in  an  Attempt 
on  Newport — Engages  the  British. — Retires  before  them  on  the 
Approach  of  Clinton  ........  -84 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Greene  defends  Sullivan  for  the  Affair  in  Rhode  Island.— Difficulties 
with  Congress  in  regard  to  the  Duties  of  Quartermaster-General. 
—Anecdote  of  his  Brother.— Resigns  from  his  Office,  and  offends 
Congress. — Debates  in  that  Body. — Greene  commands  at  the  Battle 
of  Springfield 79 


O  CONTEN'J  S. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Demonstrations  on  New  York. — Treason  of  Arnold. — Greene  appointed 
to  the  Post  at  West  Point. — Gates's  Defeat. — Greene  succeeds  him 
in  Command  of  the  Southern  Army. — Proceeds  to  the  South. — Joins 
the  Army  at  Charlotte,  N.  C.— Treatment  of  Gates  -  '  -  -  »7 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Glimpse  of  the  past  Progress  of  the  War  in  the  South. — Condition  of 
the  Country  and  of  the  Army  when  Greene  takes  Command. — His 
Difficulties — Resources — Policy. — Moves  from  Charlotte  to  Pee  Dee. 
— Marion's  Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton  pursues 
Morgan. — Is  defeated  at  the  Cowpens  -  -  •  •.  •  -  110 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Morgan's  Retreat  before  Cornwallis. — Greene  joins  him  on  the  Cataw- 
ba. — Condition  of  the  American  Army. — Militia  collects  under  Da 
vidson. — British  pass  the  Catawba. — Death  of  Davidson. — Morgan 
Retreats. — Passes  the  Yadkin. — Skirmish  with  the  Rearguard. — An 
ecdote  of  Greene  ..........  139 

CHAPTER  X. 

Continued  Pursuit  of  the  Americans  by  Cornwallis. — Greene  medi 
tates  a  Stand  at  Guilford. — Condition  of  his  Army. — Continues  the 
Retreat  through  North  Carolina. — Deludes  Cornwallis,  who  pursues 
a  Detachment  under  Williams,  while  the  main  Army  of  the  Ameri 
cans  crosses  the  River  Dan  in  security  -  -  -  -  -  -144 

CHAPTER  XL 

The  Armies  watch  each  other.— The  Militia  collect  under  Pickens 
and  Caswell. — Cornwallis  retires  upon  Hillsborough. — Greene  re- 
crosses  the  Dan. — Pickens  and  Lee  operate  successfully  upon  the 
British  Detachments. — Sanguinary  Defeat  of  Loyalists  under  Pyles, 
and  Pursuit  of  Tarleton 161 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Strategies  of  the  two  Armies.— Cornwallis  surrounded  by  the  Partisans 
— Their  Activity  and  Audacity, — He  attempts  to  elude  them,  and  cut 
Greene  off  from  his  Detachments. — He  pursues  Williams,  who  es 
capes  him. — Cornwallis  retires,  and  Greene  prepares  for  Action  •  173 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Battle  of  Guilford.— Its  Vicissitudes.— Duel  between  Colonel  Stu 
art  and  Captain  Smith.— Slaughter  among  the  Guards.— Retreat 
of  the  Americans ...  183 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Cormvallis  Retreats— Is  pursued  by  Greene— Escapes.— His  Condition, 
and  that  of  the  Americans. — Greene's  Policy. — Discontinues  the 
Pursuit  of  Cornwallis — Marches  to  South  Carolina — Appears  before 
Camden— and  offers  Battle  to  Lord  Rawdon 199 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Cornwallis  pursues  his  Route  to  Virginia. — The  Partisan  Warfare 
in  Carolina. — Marion. — Captures  Fort  Watson. — Greene's  Move 
ments. — Rawdon  marches  out  from  Camden  and  gives  him  Battle. — 

Battle  of  Hobkirk's  Hill      -        .'' 212 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Rawdon  attempts   the    Camp  of  Greene. — Evacuates  and  destroys 
Camden.— Capture  of  Fort  Motte  and  other  Posts  by  the  Partisans. — 
Rawdon  at  Monk's  Corner. — Marion  takes  Georgetown — Pickens 
Augusta.— Greene  besieges  Ninety-Six — Attempts  to  storm  it,  and  is 
defeated  with  Loss     -.-.......  225 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Greene  retreats  from  Ninety-Six. — Is  pursued  by  Rawdon. — The  latter 
evacuates  Ninety-Six,  and  retires  toward  the  Seaboard. — Greene 
turns  upon  and  pursues  him. — Various  Movements  of  the  Armies. — 
Rawdon  at  Orangeburg. — Greene  offers  him  Battle. — He  declines  it 
— Is  strengthened  by  Cruger,  and  Greene  retires  and  encamps 
among  the  High  Hills  of  Santee 2-13 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Incursion  of  the  Partisans  under  Sumter  into  the  Lower  Country. — 
Capture  of  Dorchester. — Alarm  in  Charleston. — Attempt  on  the  Post 
at  Biggins. — Abandoned  by  the  British. — Pursuit  of  Coates. — Affair 
at  Quinby  Bridge. — Battle  at  Shubrick's 2£? 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Camp  of  the  Hills.— Greene's  Army  and  his  Labor. — The  Capture 
and  Execution  of  General  Hayne. — Excitement  of  Greene  and  the 
Camp. — Retaliation  threatened.— Stuart  in  Command  of  the  British 
Army. — Successes  of  American  Cavalry. — Greene's  Army  in  Motion. 
—Retreat  of  Stuart. — Takes  Post  at  Eutaw. — Greece  approaches  -  269 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Battle  of  Eutaw  Springs -        •        -        -  28J 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  American  Army  retires  to  the  Hills  of  the  Santee. — Its  Condition 
and  that  of  the  British. — The  Movements  of  the  Partisans.— Stuart  at 
Wantoot. — The  Fall  of  Cornwallis. — The  Hopes  it  inspired. — Their 
Disappointment. — Greene  marches  for  the  Edisto. — Rapid  Approach 
to  Dorchester. — Flight  of  the  Garrison. — Stuart  Retreats. — Alarm  in 
the  British  Army.— The  Americans  take  Post  on  the  Round  O.  -  am 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

American  Attempt  on  the  British  Post  at  John's  Island. — Its  Failure. — 
Second  Attempt. — Withdrawal  of  the  Garrison. — The  Legislature 
assembles  at  Jacksonborough. — Its  Character. — Governor  Rutledge. 
— His  Speech. — Compliments  Greene. — Address  of  the  Senate  and 
House  of  Representatives  to  Greene. — The  latter  Body  votes  him 
Ten  Thousand  Guineas. — Liberality  of  Georgia  and  North  Carolina  -  313 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  State  of  the  Army. — Wayne's  Victories  in  Georgia. — Discontents 
among  the  Troops  of  Greene. — Treachery  of  Soldiers  of  the  Pennsyl 
vania  Line. — Their  Detection  and  Punishment. — Continued  Distress 
and  Sickness  of  the  Army. — Movements  of  the  British. — Marion 
defeats  Fraser. — Affair  on  the  Combahee. — Death  of  Laurens. — 
Pickens  punishes  the  Tories  and  the  Indians  -  -  323 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Greene's  Necessities. — He  resorts  to  Impressment. — The  British  pre 
pare  to  evacuate  Charleston. — That  Event  takes  place  on  the  14th  of 
December,  1782. — The  American  Army  enter  the  City. — Their 
Reception. — The  Joy  of  the  Inhabitants. — Condition  of  Public  Affairs 
in  Carolina. — Discontents  and  Difficulties. — Sufferings  of  the  Army. 
— Mutiny. — Army  Disbanded. — Greene  revisits  the  North. — His  Re 
ception  by  Congress. — His  Monetary  Difficulties. — Greene  returns  to 
Carolina -  -  337 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

His  Removal  to  Georgia. — Challenged  by  Captain  Gunn. — He  declines 
the  Challenge. — The  Extent,  Prospect,  Peace,  and  Beauty  of  his 
Domains. — His  Sickness  and  Death. — Public  Sorrow  and  Honors  on 
this  Event. — His  Character. — Conclusion 351 

APPENDIX. 

Southern  Army. — A  Narative  of  the  Campaign  of  1780,  by  Colonel 
Otho  Holland  Williams,  Adjutant-General 359 

A  Narrative  of  Events  relative  to  the  Southern  Army  subsequent  to  the 
Arrival  of  General  Gate's  broken  Battalions  at  Hillsborough,  1780  -  383 


LIFE 


OF 


NATHAIAEL  GREENE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory. — Family  of  Greene. — His  Early  Education. — Occupation.— 
Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution  and  Strength  of  Character. 

THE  events  which  brought  about  the  separation  of  the 
American  colonies  of  Great  Britain  from  the  mother- 
country,  have,  somewhat  improperly,  we  think,  gone  un 
der  the  general  name  of  revolution.  We  should  prefer 
to  substitute  for  this  word,  that  of  transition,  as  denoting 
a  natural  progress  in  history,  rather  than  such  an  ex 
treme  and  violent  change  as  is  implied  by  the  term  in 
most  familiar  use.  To  the  thoughtful  and  philosophic 
mind  there  was  nothing  extreme  or  improbable  —  nothing 
which  the  political  seer  might  not  readily  have  foreseen  — 
in  the  progress  of  opinion  and  necessity,  in  America,  to 
that  final  action  which  severed  the  ungenial  ligaments, 
which,  from  ties  had  grown  into  bonds,  by  which  the  col 
onies  were  united  to  the  mother-country.  Their  growth 
and  population,  the  gradually  unfolding  resources  of  their 
territories,  the  embarrassments  which  attended  their  po 
litical  intercourse  with  Great  Britain,  the  pecuniary  ex 
actions  ©f  the  parent  empire,  and,  above  all,  the  humiliar 
1* 


Ill  (.IFF,    OF!  NA'TJl^toJiEL    GREENE. 

ting  character  of  the  relation  in  which  they  stood  to  a 
country  which  claimed  to  govern  them  from  abroad,  and 
by  those  who  were  not  indigenous  to  the  soil — subject 
ing  the  native  mind  to  a  denial  at  once  degrading  to  its 
character,  and  ruinois  to  the  national  interests  —  were 
sufficient  reasons  by  which  the  separation  could  have 
been  and  was  foreshown.  The  emancipation  of  the 
Americans  from  foreign  rule,  was  the  natural  conse 
quence  of  increasing  numbers,  and  enlarged  intelligence. 
The  infant  had  grown  into  manhood.  It  was  capable 
of  going  alone  ;  and  the  impulse  which  sundered  the 
leading-strings  by  which  its  movements  were  confined, 
was  the  fruit  of  a  simple  progress,  step  by  step  upward, 
to  the  possession  and  the  exercise  of  a  natural  and  inev 
itable  strength.  It  was  the  great  good  fortune  of  the 
Americans  that  such  was  the  case  in  their  history — that 
there  was  no  abrupt  or  premature  outbreak  which  would 
have  found  them  too  weak  for  a  struggle,  which,  under 
such  a  circumstance,  would  only  have  served  to  rivet 
their  bands  more  firmly,  and  prolong  the  term  of  their 
endurance.  This  must  have  been  the  event  had  their 
history  been  that  of  a  revolution  —  a  change  rather  than 
a  progress.  But  the  progress  found  them  prepared  with 
all  the  necessary  resources.  Their  numbers  were  not 
inadequate  to  the  struggle  ;  the  intelligence  of  the  peo 
ple  made  the  necessity  for  it  a  familiar  and  expanding 
thought ;  and,  when,  in  course  of  time,  they  could  evolve 
from  their  own  ranks,  statesmen  and  warriors  who  were 
capable  of  their  government  as  an  independent  nation, 
it  was  permitted,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Israelites  —  when 
they  could  boast  of  prophets,  like  Moses  and  Aaron, 
equal  to  any  of  the  Egyptian  magi  —  that  they  should  be 
conducted  out  of  bondage.  When  Virginia  could  pro 
duce  such  great  men  as  Washington,  Patrick  Henry,  and 
Jefferson ;  Massachusetts,  Hancock  and  Adams  ;  and 


THE    FAMILY    OP    GREENE.  11 

Carolina,  her  Marions,  Moultries,  and  Rutleclges — there 
was  surely  no  proper  necessity  to  look  to  a  foreign 
country  for  the  sage  or  soldier.  It  is  the  curious  and 
conclusive  fact  in  our  history,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
struggle  for  independence,  that  it  found  all  the  colonies 
in  possession  of  some  one  or  more  remarkably  endowed 
persons  to  whom  the  conduct  of  their  affairs  in  coun 
cil,  and  of  their  honor  in  the  field,  might  be  confided 
safely.  Among  the  men  thus  constituting  the  racial 
stock  of  character  with  which  the  great  national  move 
ment  was  begun,  it  is  the  boast  of  Rhode  Island  to  have 
made  one  of  the  most  valuable  contributions,  in  the  per 
son  of  Nathanael  Greene. 

The  family  of  Greene  was  English.  It  left  the  old 
for  the  new  world  somewhere  in  the  seventeenth  cen 
tury,  one  branch  of  the  family  settling  at  Plymouth, 
whence  it  subsequently  removed  to  Providence  river; 
while  the  other  established  itself  in  the  township  of  War 
wick,  upon  lands  procured  from  the  Narraganset  Indi 
ans.  Here,  upon  the  banks  of  the  stream  which  still 
bears  the  aboriginal  name  of  Potowhommett,  Nathanael 
Greene,  the  third  in  descent  from  John,  the  original  set 
tler,  built  himself  a  mill  and  forge.  The  occupation  of 
the  blacksmith  seems  to  have  been  in  no  wise  detrimen 
tal  to  the  social  position  of  the  family.  They  were 
among  the  first  European  settlers  of  the  country ;  their 
career  was  marked  by  usefulness,  and  was  not  without 
its  distinctions.  John  Greene,  the  founder  of  the  family, 
was  one  of  the  colonists  who  appeared  in  the  first  per 
manent  organization  of  the  province  under  the  charter  of 
Charles  the  Second,  and  others  of  its  members  rose  to 
offices  of  dignity  and  trust  in  the  administration  of  the 
affairs  of  the  colony.  In  new  settlements,  which  suffer 
from  a  thousand  influences  of  which  a  high  condition  of 
civilization  affords  no  just  idea,  the  distinguishing  merit  of 


12  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

the  citizen  must  necessarily  be  his  usefulness.  He  who, 
in  such  a  condition  of  society,  is  prepared  to  meet  and 
to  overcome  even  its  meanest  necessities,  is  a  benefactor, 
and  in  just  degree  with  the  importance  of  his  service 
will  be  his  social  distinctions.  Nathanael  Greene,  the 
sire,  suffered  accordingly  no  diminution  of  rank  when 
he  graced  his  arms  with  a  sledge-hammer ;  and  it  is  one 
of  the  honorable  distinctions,  in  the  descendant  whose 
career  is  the  subject  of  this  volume,  that  he  was  duly 
taught  to  wield  it  also.  The  region  in  which  this  sway 
was  maintained,  on  the  waters  of  the  Potowhommett,  is 
still  designated  by  filial  pride,  in  connexion  with  this 
history;  and  the  ancient  mill  itself,  and  the  rude  forge 
at  which,  father  and  son,  the  Greenes  toiled,  year  by 
year,  with  praiseworthy  perseverance,  are  still  subjects 
of  equal  admiration  and  interest  to  all  who  delight  in 
the  upward  rise  of  an  ambition  that  founds  its  hopes 
entirely  upon  a  compliance  with  the  demands  of  duty. 
Here,  too,  stood  the  humble  house  of  stone,  a  single 
story,  in  which  Nathanael  Greene,  the  subject  of  our 
memoir — the  second  of  six  sons  by  a  second  marriage — 
was  born  on  the  27th  of  May,  1742.  He  was  the  fourth 
of  eight  sons  whom  the  father  raised  to  manhood.  Of 
his  infancy  we  know  nothing.  It  was  probably  a  some 
what  cheerless  one.  His  mother  died  when  he  was  yet 
a  child ;  and  his  father,  as  we  may  imagine,  was  some 
thing  of  a  Spartan,  in  the  guise  of  a  quaker  preacher. 
This  venerable  man  is  represented  as  filling  the  pulpit 
with  rare  ability;  preaching  with  a  force  and  eloquence, 
a  simplicity  and  shrewdness,  which  continued  to  edify 
the  meeting-house  at  East  Greenwich  for  nearly  forty 
years.  The  functions  of  a  pastor,  however  earnestly 
prosecuted,  found  him  in  no  degree  forgetful  of,  or  indif 
ferent  to,  the  domestic  stewardship.  His  boys  followed 
him  at  the  forge  and  at  the  farm,  and  accompanied  him 


HIS    YOUTHFUL    CIIARA    TERISTICS.  13 

to  the  place  of  prayer,  with  the  most  unvarying  regu 
larity.  He  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian  —  an  authority  that 
never  once  suffered  itself  to  be  disputed,  without  testing 
the  strength  of  the  offender  by  the  certainty  of  the  pun 
ishment.  Temperate  and  frugal  himself,  the  training  to 
which  he  subjected  his  boys  —  a  training  which  was 
rather  strict  and  rigid  than  severe — naturally  produced 
similar  habits  among  them  ;  and  they  passed,  by  a  natural 
progress,  as  they  acquired  strength  for  these  several 
employments,  through  all  the  labors  of  the  mill,  the 
forge,  and  the  farm,  until  they  grew  into  athletic  young 
men,  healthy  and  vigorous  of  person,  and  calm  and  reso 
lute  of  mind.  In  one  respect,  the  education  which 
Greene  afforded  to  his  sons  was  perhaps  deficient.  His 
own  lessons  had  been  simply  religious.  Of  books,  he 
knew  none  but  the  Bible,  and  regarded  the  sacred  vol 
ume  as  superseding  the  necessity  for  every  other.  The 
humble  elements  of  an  English  country-school,  the  les 
sons  of  which  were  sought  only  during  the  short,  bleak 
days  of  winter,  were  not  materially  calculated  to  modify 
the  effects  of  this  education,  which  accordingly  impressed 
itself  upon  the  whole  character  and  career  of  the  subject 
of  our  memoir,  in  a  manner  which  could  not  be  mistaken. 
Hence  the  simplicity  of  his  habits,  the  equable  tone  of 
his  mind,  his  straightforwardness  and  integrity,  the  style 
in  which  he  wrote,  and  the  inflexibility  of  his  purpose. 
These  characteristics,  however  decidedly  his  own,  were 
not  entirely  at  variance  with  a  mood  which  was  gentle 
in  its  nature,  and  a  disposition  to  society  and  its  pleas 
antries.  Young  Greene  was  not  indifferent  to  the  sports 
of  youth.  The  strictness  of  his  training,  in  all  proba 
bility  increased  their  attractions  in  his  eyes ;  and  good 
limbs  and  an  athletic  constitution  enabled  him  to  excel  in 
the  usual  amusements  of  a  rustic  life.  He  was  chief 
among  the  actors  in  all  rural  sports ;  a  leader  among  the 


14  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL     GREENE. 

revellers  in  all  the  wholesome  and  hearty  enjoyments 
of  the  country;  and  quite  an  authority,  at  an  early  pe 
riod,  among  his  youthful  associates, — proving  clearly 
certain  peculiar  endowments  in  himself,  which,  by  tacit 
consent,  were  admitted  to  have  sway  among  their  coun 
cils.  Rustic  superstition  contributed  to  confirm  this 
authority.  His  nativity  was  cast  by  a  Doctor  Spencer, 
who  united  the  kindred  professions  of  accoucheur  and 
astrologer ;  and  he  predicted  the  future  distinctions,  dis 
guised  as  usual  in  a  happy  generality,  to  which  our  hero 
was  to  attain.  He  was  to  be  a  mighty  man  in  Israel. 

The  prediction  promised  to  be  verified.  The  defer 
ence  which  his  young  associates  paid  to  his  genius, 
extended  to  his  stern  and  exemplary  father.  He  was 
observed  to  yield  to  his  wishes  and  opinions  an  attention 
which  no  other  of  the  family  could  obtain.  The  natural 
ascendency  of  mind  was  felt  in  spite  of  the  deficiencies 
of  education.  These  deficiencies  were  of  the  extremesr 
kind,  and  continued  until  our  subject  was  fourteen  years 
It  was  then  that  he  formed  an  intimacy  with  a  lad  named 
Giles,  a  student  of  the  university  of  Rhode  Island,  who 
spent  his  vacation  at  East  Greenwich.  This  boy,  who 
was  probably  only  a  clever  sophomore,  awakened  in  the 
mind  of  young  Greene  all  its  latent  ambition.  He  made 
him  a  discontent,  by  showing  him  that  there  were  other 
lessons  which  wisdom  might  teach,  of  importance  to  the 
career  of  man,  beyond  those,  however  valuable  in  them 
selves  and  vital,  which  took  care  of  his  spiritual  inter 
ests.  It  was  from  this  moment — and  from  the  lesson  so 
caught  up — that  Greene  began  to  direct  his  attention  to 
the  acquisition  of  books.  The  shelves  of  his  friends 
were  ransacked  with  the  view  to  the  satiation  of  this 
newly-aroused  appetite.  The  labors  of  his  hands  were 
Y3luntarily  increased,  that  he  might  procure  means  to 
purchase  the  precious  volumes  which  he  could  not  other- 


HIS    STUDIES    ENLARGED.  15 

wise  obtain,  His  usual  sports  were  foregone  ;  the  pleas 
ures  and  toys  of  the  child  beguiled  and  satisfied  him  no 
longer ;  he  was  no  more  a  boy,  but  a  student,  appropri 
ating  every  moment  of  leisure  —  nay,  without  waiting 
for  the  moment  of  leisure — but  beside  the  anchor  forge* 
or  the  hopper  of  the  mill,  wherever  the  occupation  would 
permit  of  the  indulgence,  he  sat  or  stood,  book  in  hand, 
dividing  his  time  jealously  between  the  toils  of  necessity 
and  the  object  of  the  passionate  desires  of  his  mind. 

This  habit  was  not  grateful  to  his  father.  He  regarded 
it  as  a  form  of  idleness,  and  perhaps,  in  some  sort,  as  a 
profanity.  Why  should  he  want  other  books  than  the 
Bible]  That  had  been  enough  for  him;  and  the  self- 
esteem  which  made  so  large  an  element  in  the  father's 
character,  naturally  resented  the  enlarged  appetites  of 
the  son,  as  so  much  presumption.  But,  as  the  boy  con 
scientiously  fulfilled  all  his  duties  —  as  neither  indolence 
nor  neglect  of  his  tasks,  nor  slovenliness  in  their  per 
formance,  could  be  charged  upon  him  —  the  sire  did 
not  attempt  to  prevent  him  in  the  pursuit  of  his  nev 
enjoyments.  Gradually,  the  old  man  became  so  far 
reconciled  to  the  earnest  and  noble  perseverance  of  tho 
youth,  as  to  consider  the  necessity  of  seeking  for  him  a 
teacher  of  more  capacity  than  had  hitherto  been  thought 
sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  education.  He  probably 
began  to  feel,  in  the  influence  which  his  son  exercised 
upon  himself  and  others,  and  in  the  extraordinary  pas 
sion  which  he  betrayed  for  books,  that  he  was  really 
destined  to  a  career  very  superior  to  that  of  the  village 
blacksmith.  Lessons  in  Latin  and  mathematics,  were 
obtained  from  a  man  named  Maxwell,  and  young  Greene 
soon  formed  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the  ancients 
through  one  of  their  own  tongues,  and  found  himself 
most  decidedly  at  home  in  the  company  of  Euc'Jid.  Of 
geometry,  in  its  application  to  navigation  and  surveying 


16  LIFE  OF  NATHANIEL  GREENE. 

he  became  a  master;  and  his  mind  was  now  put  doubly 
in  possession  of  his  materials,  by  being  trained  in  their 
methodical  management.  Horace  and  Cesar  were  the 
favorites  of  his  taste,  and  beguiled  his  imagination ; 
while  Euclid  furnished  the  necessary  exercise  for  his 
thoroughly-awakened  and  sharper  intellect.  Thus,  toil 
ing  equally  in  mind  and  body — rising  to  the  labors  of 
the  forge  when  necessary,  and  sinking  at  every  oppor 
tunity  into  the  well-worn  seat  beside  it,  where  he  had 
hurriedly  laid  down  his  book  —  he  continued  to  increase, 
his  mental  possessions,  without  forfeiting,  as  is  so  com 
monly  the  case,  any  of  the  vigorous  muscle,  or  admirable 
health  and  strength  of  body,  which  the  sports  and  labors 
of  his  youth  had  enabled  him  to  acquire.  His  knowledge 
of  books,  speaking  comparatively,  had  greatly  increased 
in  the  brief  period  since  he  had  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  sophomore.  An  event  was  now  to  occur,  which 
should  contribute  greatly  to  the  proper  direction  of  those 
aims,  which,  however  profitable  in  their  acquisitions,  as 
compared  with  the  past,  were  yet  somewhat  deficient 
in  method,  organization,  and  singleness  of  purpose.  A 
happy  accident  was  to  order  and  direct  the  somewhat 
desultory  course  of  study  which  he  had  hitherto  pursued. 
Tt  was  the  custom  of  Greene,  whenever  his  labors  had 
afforded  him  the  means  to  make  any  addition  to  his 
library,  to  visit  Newport  in  search  of  a  book.  On  these 
occasions,  a  little  shallop,  which  was  kept  at  the  mills  of 
JPotowhommett,  and  sent  periodically  to  Newport  and 
other  towns  along  the  bay  of  Narraganset,  with  the 
manufactures  of  the  mills,  supplied  the  opportunity. 
Greene  usually  worked  his  passage  when  he  visited 
the  town,  seeking  a  market  for  his  wares,  the  product 
of  his  labors  in  his  own  time.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
voyages,  made  with  this  object,  when  he  was  about  sev 
enteen  years  old,  that  he  hastened  to  a  bookseller  in 


FINDS    A    GUIDE    TO    KftC  vYLEDGE.  17 

Newport,  prepared  to  lay  out  his  petty  earnings  for  a 
book.  But  what  book  1  His  knowledge  of  literature 
was  quite  too  limited  to  suggest  to  him  the  name  of  the 
volume  which  should  be  most  acceptable ;  and  when  the 
bookseller  naturally  asked  what  book  he  wanted,  he 
could  only  blush  in  his  ignorance,  and  stand  confused 
and  silent  before  the  inquirer.  It  happened  that  a  third 
person  was  present  on  this  occasion,  and  became  inter 
ested  in  the  ingenuous  confusion  of  the  boy.  This  was 
Dr.  Stiles,  then  a  clergyman,  and  subsequently  well  known 
as  president  of  Yale  college.  He  regarded  Greene  with 
eyes  of  curiosity;  and,  in  his  appearance — his  simple 
garb,  begrimed  possibly  by  the  labors  of  the  forge,  and 
whitened  by  the  mill — he  conceived  instantly  the  strug 
gle  which  was  in  progress,  of  a  naturally  strong  and 
well-endowed  mind,  contending  with  equal  ignorance 
and  poverty.  He  engaged  the  boy  in  conversation,  and 
his  impressions  were  confirmed.  The  conclusion  was, 
that  Stiles  took  the  boy  to  his  house,  counselled  and 
encouraged  him,  became  his  ally  in  the  pursuit  of  learn 
ing,  and  gave  a  proper  direction  to  his  tastes  and  studies. 
This  help  relieved  him  from  all  future  embarrassment 
in  seeking  the  means  of  knowledge.  He  had  found 
something  better  than  a  teacher — he  had  found  a  guide ; 
and  it  now  became  the  important  object  with  our  hero 
to  revisit  Newport  as  frequently  as  possible.  His  pro 
cess  for  the  attainment  of  this  object  was  quite  character 
istic.  He  made  himself  a  skilful  boatman.  He  studied 
the  navigation  of  the  river.  He  was  finally  promoted  to 
be  muster  of  the  shallop  ;  and  the  bookseller  of  Newport 
found  him  frequently  at  his  counter,  gazing  upon  his 
shelves,  with  the  look  of  one  who  asks  himself,  sighing 
secretly  the  while,  "Shall  I  ever  be  the  owner  of  such  a 
treasure  as  this  1"  His  private  stock  of  books  was  cer 
tainly  a  small  one  We  know  that  he  possessed  the 


18  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Logic  of  Watts,  Locke's  famous  Essay,  the  able  volume 
of  Ferguson,  on  Civil  Society,  and  a  few  other  stand 
ard  works,  like  these,  of  an  educational  character. 
That  he  spared  no  labor  by  which  he  might  increase 
these  treasures,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  that  his 
heavy  labors  at  the  forge  finally  produced  that  lameness 
of  the  right  foot  which  attended  him  through  life  ;  while, 
to  enable  himself  to  pass  from  the  coarse  work  of  the 
forge  to  the  manufacture  of  those  finer  fabrics  on  which 
his  own  perquisites  chiefly  depended,  he  has  been  known 
to  grind  off  the  callosities  from  his  hands  at  the  grind 
stone,  in  order  to  give  them  the  necessary  pliancy  and 
delicacy  of  touch ;  and  this  when  he  was  studying  logic 
and  philosophy ! 

His  visits  to  Stiles  and  Newport  brought  him  to  the 
knowledge  of  Lindley  Murray.  The  latter  was  of  a 
quaker  family,  as  well  as  Greene,  and  was  then  on  an 
excursion  through  the  quaker  settlements  of  the  eastern 
colonies.  A  sympathy  in  their  common  objects  of  pur 
suit  brought  the  two  young  men  closely  together ;  and 
Murray  accompanied  Greene  to  Potowhommett,  where 
he  so  prevailed  upon  the  father,  that  young  Greene  was 
permitted  to  return  the  visit  the  following  winter  to 
Murray  in  New  York.  The  latter  had  been  particularly 
well  educated.  His  father,  conscious  of  the  unwise 
hostility  or  indifference  of  the  quaker  sect  to  all  liberal 
studies,  had  done  his  best  to  make  his  son  superior  to  all 
their  prejudices.  His  acquisitions  were  naturally  shared 
with  Greene.  We  may  be  sure  that  the  blacksmith  and 
mill-boy,  whom  we  have  seen  grinding  down  his  fingers 
in  order  to  acquire  the  means  of  knowledge,  did  not 
suffer  the  opportunity  to  escape  for  procuring  it  on 
more  easy  terms,  and  through  the  pleasant  medium  of 
friendship.  It  was  while  on  this  visit  to  New  York  that 
he  gave  a  new  proof  of  that  decision  of  character,  that 


INOCULATED     WITH     SMALL-POCK.  19 

forethought  and  superiority  over  his  associates  and  edu 
cation,  which  were  the  distinguishing  traits  of  his  char 
acter  through  life.  The  small-pock  was  prevailing  with 
great  severity  in  New  York.  Greene  knew  the  super 
stitious  dread  which  was  entertained  in  regard  to  this 
disease ;  was  aware  of  its  real  dangers ;  and  felt  the 
importance  of  passing  the  crisis,  at  a  moment  when  his 
mind  could  contemplate  it  calmly,  and  when  it  could  not 
interfere  with  any  pressing  employments.  He  availed 
himself  of  the  opportunity,  to  become  inoculated  with 
it,  and  a  blemish  in  one  of  his  eyes,  which  did  not,  how 
ever,  impair  the  sight,  was  the  consequence.  The  pres 
ent  courage  of  the  boy  in  this  instance,  saved  him  from 
all  future  apprehensions  of  a  disease  which  continued 
to  spread  terror  through  the  country. 


20  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Youthful  Habits.— Parental  Discipline.— Progress  from  Books  to  Politics.— 
Military  Studies  and  Marriage. 

WE  have  shown  young  Greene  as  a  student.  It  will 
be  admitted  that  the  conditions  of  his  career  have  been 
sufficiently  arduous  as  well  in  letters  as  in  war.  But  the 
mind  most  resolute  on  acquisition  will  yet  need  a  respite 
from  its  toils.  The  body  demands  relief  which  no  en 
thusiasm  of  the  intellect  will  be  able  entirely  to  with 
hold,  particularly  in  the  case  of  one,  whose  physique,  like 
that  of  Greene,  is  well  developed,  and  whose  temper 
ament  is  sanguine.  We  have  seen  that  his  boyish  habit, 
in  the  matter  of  sport,  was  quite  unquakerish  —  that  he 
loved,  and  usually  led,  in  the  recreations  of  his  boyish 
mates.  These  early  propensities  did  not  desert  him  as 
he  grew  older,  and  in  consequence  of  his  newly-awa 
kened  passion  for  books.  His  character,  though  really 
sedate  and  temperate,  was  anything  but  morose.  His 
tendencies  were  decidedly  social.  Though  satisfied  with 
a  single  meal  per  day,  and  indulging  in  no  beverage 
more  potent  than  a  solitary  cup  of  tea  or  coffee  in  the 
same  space  of  time,  yet  there  were  some  pleasures  in 
which  he  was  ever  ready  to  indulge  to  a  degree  which 
was  apparently  inconsistent  with  his  ordinary  habits. 
Rising  at  the  dawn  of  day,  and  laboring  at  forge  01 
farm  while  the  day  "Basted  —  and  sometimes,  at  his  own 
labors,  to  a  late  hour  in  the  night  —  it  would  seem  only 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  was  glad  when  he  could 
'•etire  to  his  couch,  and  that  he  slept  soundly  as  soon  as  he 


ELUDES  HIS  FATHER'S  VIGILANCE.  21 

touclie.l  the  pillow.  Such,  for  a  time,  was  no  doubt  the 
opinion  of  his  sober  quaker  father.  But  he  was  mista 
ken.  Young  Greene  was  at  an  age  when  the  heart  par 
ticularly  needs  society — when  the  instincts  of  the  youth 
naturally  incline  to  communion  with  the  other  sex,  and 
when  the  impulses  acknowledge  few  restraints  of  mind  or 
body,  of  strength  sufficient  to  keep  them  from  the  grati 
fication  of  a  favorite  desire.  Greene's  quaker  education 
might  have  inculcated  a  sufficient  hostility  to  dancing,  to 
keep  him  from  the  exercise,  but  that,  in  its  indulgence, 
it  conducted  him  to  female  society.  At  eighteen  or 
twenty  the  desire  for  such  communion  must  be  acknowl 
edged  as  sufficiently  legitimate  for  youth.  It  is,  indeed, 
one  of  the  securities  of  virtue.  But  the  father  of  Greene 
was  a  quaker  and  not  a  philosopher.  He  made  no  allow 
ance  for  such  an  appetite,  and  the  son  was  very  soon  per 
suaded  that,  if  his  passions  were  to  be  gratified  in  this 
respect,  it  could  only  be  in  the  wholesome  ignorance  of 
his  proceeding,  in  which  he  could  keep  the  old  gentle 
man.  The  household  was  a  very  sober  one.  At  a  cer 
tain  hour  doors  and  windows  were  to  be  closed  and 
bolted,  and  all  good  boys  were  to  be  in  bed.  Young 
Green  obeyed  the  requisition ;  but  when  the  father  was 
safe  in  the  arms  of  sleep,  and  in  full  faith  that  all  his 
family  were  similarly  disposed  of,  he  might  be  seen  let 
ting  himself  down  from  the  eaves,  and  speeding  away  to 
the  happy  places  where  his  young  associates  were  busy 
in  the  rustic  dance.  Thus,  night  after  night,  in  the  depth 
of  winter,  would  he  speed  away  from  the  silent  home 
stead,  and  mingle  with  the  village  revellers.  His  lame 
ness  was  too  slight  to  offer  any  serious  obstacle  to  the 
inartificial  movements  of  a  country  revel ;  and,  in  thus 
affording  to  his  limbs  and  blood  the  exercises  which  his 
nature  found  equally  agreeable  and  necessary,  he  did  not 
forfeit  in  any  degree,  or  impair  the  value,  of  his  book 


22  LIFE    OP    NATH  \N1EL    GREENE. 

acquisitions.  On  these  occasions  he  gave  a  free  loose 
to  a  temperament  which  was  at  once  impulsive  and  amia 
ble  ;  and  the  usually  sedate  student,  and  laborious  worker 
at  hammer  and  hopper,  proved  as  lighthearted  as  any  of 
his  neighbors.  Before  dawn,  he  was  again  at  home, 
crowding  with  sleep  the  brief  hours  which  were  left  him 
ere  he  should  be  summoned  to  his  daily  tasks.  But  there 
is  a  proverb  that  threatens  the  safety  of  any  pitcher 
which  goes  too  often  to  the  well.  Whether  frequent  es 
cape  had  made  young  Greene  careless,  or  whether  he 
was  betrayed  by  some  hostile  companion,  it  matters  not; 
but  the  quaker  sire  had  his  suspicions  awakened  in  re 
gard  to  the  practices  of  his  son.  To  be  told  that  the  son 
whom  he  valued  over  all  the  rest,  on  whom  he  had  be 
stowed  the  best  education,  and  to  whom  he  fondly  looked 
as  his  successor  on  the  floor  of  the  meeting-house,  was 
guilty  of  such  a  profanity  as  dancing  implied,  was  to 
awaken  all  his  indignation,  and  to  render  him  equally 
subtle  and  strict  in  his  vigilance.  He  watched  the  move 
ments  of  the  youth,  and  was  very  soon  in  possession  of  the 
most  ample  proofs  of  the  correctness  of  his  suspicions. 

Greene,  as  usual,  had  stolen  forth  from  the  house  when 
it  appeared  to  be  wrapt  in  slumber.  The  occasion  was 
one  of  particular  attractions.  There  was  a  great  ball  in 
the  neighborhood,  to  which  he  had  been  secretly  invited. 
He  danced  till  midnight,  the  gayest  of  the  gay,  little 
dreaming  of  any  misadventure.  But  when  he  drew  nigh 
the  homestead,  his  keen  eyes  discovered  the  person  of 
his  father,  paternally  waiting,  whip  in  hand,  beneath  the 
very  window  through  which  alone  he  could  find  en 
trance.  There  was  no  means  of  escaping  him.  The 
stem  ola  quaker  was  one  of  that  class  of  people  who 
are  apt  to  unite  the  word  and  blow  together,  the  latter 
being  quite  likely  to  make  itself  felt  before  the  other. 
In  this  emergency,  conscious  that  there  was  no  remedy 


IS  FLOGGED  BY  HIS  FATHER.  23 

against,  or  rescue  from  the  rod,  young  Greene  promptly 
conceived  an  idea  which  suggests  a  ready  capacity  for 
military  resource.  A  pile  of  shingles  lay  at  hand,  and 
before  he  supposed  his  father  to  behold  his  approach,  he 
insinuated  beneath  his  jacket  a  sufficient  number  of  thin 
layers  of  shingle  to  shield  his  back  and  shoulders  from 
the  thong.  With  this  secret  corslet  he  approached  and 
received  his  punishment  with  the  most  exemplary  forti 
tude.  The  old  man  laid  on  with  the  utmost  unction,  little 
dreaming  of  the  secret  cause  of  that  hardy  resignation 
with  which  the  lad  submitted  to  a  punishment  which  was 
meant  to  be  most  exemplary. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  father  obtained  more  than  a  tem 
porary  triumph.  Greene  could  still  indulge  in  his  recre 
ations,  as  before,  and  without  lessening  his  capacity  for 
duty  and  acquisition.  His  sports  were  never  of  a  kind 
to  interfere  with  his  proper  performances.  They  were 
the  result  of  a  necessity,  such  as  belongs  to  all  healthful 
bodies,  where  the  nervous  energies  demand  various 
means  and  opportunities  for  exercise.  His  irregularities 
were  never  of  an  animal  kind,  though,  in  the  case  of  a 
less  justly-balanced  mind,  the  ascetic  philosophy  and 
regimen  of  the  old  quaker  might  have  made  them  so. 
His  temperament  remained  the  same,  though  his  studies 
were  resumed.  His  library  was  gradually  enlarging. 
Swift  and  other  writers  of  what  has  been  —  improperly 
perhaps  —  entitled  the  Augustan  age  of  English  litera- 
tuie,  became  his  favorite  studies;  and,  upon  the  clear, 
direct,  and  manly  style  of  the  first-named  author,  he  en 
deavored  to  model  his  own.  Nor  did  his  mental  desires 
limit  themselves  to  literature  only  and  philosophy.  The 
possession  of  Blackstone  and  other  legal  writers  —  to  the 
reading  of  which  he  was  prompted  by  a  law  case  of 
some  difficulty  which  disturbed  the  repose  of  the  family 
for  some  time,  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  his  two 


24  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

brothers  by  the  first  marriage  —  opened  to  him  a  very  fair 
knowledge  of  the  principles  of  English  law,  and  prompted 
his  frequent  attendance  at  the  neighboring  courts,  where 
he  formed  an  acquaintance  with  judges  and  lawyers,  and 
listened  with  delight  to  their  conflicts.  In  all  these 
modes  was  he  preparing,  unconsciously,  for  that  career 
of  usefulness  and  fame  through  which  he  was  yet  to  pass, 
under  the  gradually-increasing  discontents  and  troubles 
of  the  country.  Here,  too,  he  began,  for  the  first  time, 
to  inform  himself  in  politics.  The  village  courthouse 
was  the  natural  arena  for  those  who  loved  to  engage  in 
political  debate.  Here  it  was,  that  young  Greene  began 
to  study  and  to  understand  the  true  relations  existing  be 
tween  the  colonies  and  the  mother-country.  This  was 
u  new  and  grateful  field  for  a  mind  rather  strong  and 
shrewd  than  fanciful  or  imaginative  —  of  tendencies 
wholly  practical — sedate  as  well  as  inquiring,  and  not 
easily  led  away  from  the  true  objects  of  study  by  any  of 
its  collateral  topics.  He  came,  by  degrees,  to  be  a  poli 
tician  as  well  as  a  lawyer. 

His  father,  however  much  he  might  be  disposed  to 
regard  his  son  as  erring  in  his  tastes,  was  far  from  being 
insensible  to  his  acquisitions.  Our  hero  naturally  as 
cended  to  the  second  place  to  himself;  and  became,  like 
himself,  a  strict  disciplinarian  in  the  household.  His 
brothers  were  subjected  to  his  authority ;  and  the  whole 
family  prospered  under  this  administration.  Old  Greene 
had  not  only  become  the  sole  proprietor  of  the  Poto- 
whommett  mills,  but  had  extended  his  domain  by  the 
purchase  of  another  mill  at  Coventry.  This  was  assigned 
to  the  management  of  our  Nathanael.  He  was  now  in  a 
measure  his  own  master.  His  means  were  necessarily 
increased,  and  his  library  soon  grew  to  a  decent  and 
well-chosen  collection — large  at  that  period  —  of  nearly 
three  hundred  volumes.  His  active  mind  was  not  satip- 


I5ECOMES    A    POLITICIAN.  25 

fied  with  the  selfish  concerns  of  the  mill.  He  took  part 
m  the  affairs  of  the  community.  Under  his  auspices  the 
first  public  school  was  established  in  Coventry,  and  the 
eyes  of  his  neighbors  were  already  fixed  upon  him  as 
one  of  those  men,  equally  steadfast  and  intelligent,  to 
whom  they  might  properly  turn  in  the  moment  of  neces 
sity  or  danger.  He  was  now  in  his  twenty-third  year, 
with  manners  which  were  at  once  agreeable  and  digni 
fied —  intimate  with  most  of  the  leading  men  of  the  neigh 
borhood —  on  terms  of  familiar  intercourse  with  the 
bench  and  bar  of  East  Greenwich,  the  members  of  which 
were  visitors  at  his  father's  house  —  and  filled,  in  conse 
quence  of  this  position,  with  all  the  political  excitements 
which  naturally  formed  the  habitual  subject  of  discussion 
among  such  associates.  To  the  examination  of  the  great 
questions  which  now  began  to  disturb  the  country, 
Greene  bent  all  the  energies  of  his  mind.  His  quaker 
training  was  not  permitted  to  defeat  his  present  tenden 
cies.  It  had  not  sufficed  to  restrain  the  courage  and 
character  of  his  ancestors,  when  they  resisted  the  perse 
cutions  of  the  fanatical  governor,  Winthrop,  of  Massa 
chusetts  bay,  when  he  declared  war  against  the  heretics, 
and  sent  his  petty  emissaries  on  a  crusade  after  the  stur 
dy  quaker  Gorton ;  and,  if  not  sufficiently  powerful  to 
detain  young  Greene  from  the  rustic  revels  of  his  neigh 
bors,  even  when  illustrated  by  the  heavy  arm  and  horse 
whip  of  his  father,  it  would  scarcely  prove  sufficiently 
imposing  to  keep  a  nature,  so  equally  firm  and  eager, 
from  the  assertion  of  an  argument  on  which  depended 
alike  the  principles  and  the  safety  of  the  country.  The 
discussion  of  the  stamp-act  found  him  ready  to  engage 
in  politics  with  a  hearty  interest,  such  as  might  well  be 
assumed  as  fatal  to  his  quakerism.  In  1769,  a  king's  cut 
ter  had  been  taken  at  Newport.  Three  years  after  wit> 
nessed  the  burning  of  the  Gaspee,  in  Providence  river. 
2 


26  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Greene  shared  in  the  strong  popular  excitement  on  these 
occasions,  and  his  expressions  were  of  a  nature  which 
threatened  to  draw  upon  him  the  severities  of  govern 
ment.  But,  escaping  from  this  danger,  he  did  not  the 
less  earnestly  urge  and  maintain  the  sentiments  which 
had  provoked  it;  and,  with  that  foresight  which  marked 
his  character,  he  now  began  a  series  of  studies  still  more 
at  variance  with  the  precepts  of  the  quaker,  and  with 
due  reference  to  the  approaching  necessities  of  the  coun 
try.  He  added  to  his  library  several  of  the  best  military 
authors  of  the  time,  and  attended  the  rude  displays  of  the 
colonial  militia,  then  in  course  of  organization  and  disci 
pline  throughout  the  states.  This  last  proceeding  out 
raged  all  the  proprieties  of  quakerism.  He  was  cited 
before  the  fathers  of  the  sanctuary  for  this  errantry.  A 
committee  was  appointed  to  sit  upon  his  case ;  but  he 
gave  them  no  satisfaction.  They  were,  however,  unwil 
ling  to  cut  off  the  prodigal,  and  continued  to  visit  and 
exhort  him,  until,  in  utter  despair  of  his  conversion  from 
the  errors  af  his  ways,  they  read  him,  with  a  sad  solem 
nity,  out  of  their  books  of  brotherhood.  He  still  pro 
fessed  himself  a  quaker,  and  cherished  great  esteem  of 
the  sect,  but  his  faith  was  one  that  claimed  privileges  for 
its  own,  and  his  respect  for  the  brethren  did  not  prevent 
him  from  denouncing  many  of  its  professors  for  their 
hypocrisy. 

In  1770,  Greene  was  elected  to  the  general  assembly 
of  the  colony.  Such  was  his  popularity,  that,  from  this 
period,  even  after  he  took  command  of  the  army  in  the 
south,  he  continued  to  be  chosen  by  his  constituents. 
As  a  member  of  the  legislature,  without  making  any 
figure  in  debate,  he  commanded  the  respect  of  his  asso 
ciates  for  his  integrity,  his  excellent  and  manly  sense, 
and  the  general  soundness  of  his  jucgment.  He  seldom 
spoke ;  but,  when  he  did,  it  was  always  with  effect,  in  a 


BECOMES    A    SOLDIER.  27 

clear,  dignified,  and  unembarrassed  manner,  which  com 
manded  the  attention  of  the  house,  In  cases  of  difficulty 
he  was  an  understood  authority  On  committees  of 
importance  he  was  most  usually  employed.  When  en 
voys  were  sent  to  Connecticut  to  concert  measures  for 
public  defence,  he  was  one  of  the  delegates ;  and  here 
he  had  an  opportunity  of  renewing  his  intimacy  with  his 
friend  Stiles,  who  had  become  the  president  of  Yale. 
Doubtless,  his  rank  would  have  been  distinguished  as  a 
politician,  but  that  his  peculiar  talent  preferred  another 
field  of  distinction.  It  was  in  1774  that  he  threw  off 
quakerism  entirely,  in  putting  on  the  habiliments  of  the 
soldier.  He  enrolled  himself  as  a  member  of  a  corps 
called  the  Kentish  guards,  contenting  himself  with  being 
a  private  soldier,  having  failed  to  secure  a  lieutenancy. 
The  Kentish  guards  were  formed  upon  a  favorite  British 
model.  The  corps  was  composed  of  the  most  worthy 
of  the  neighboring  yeomanry.  In  the  war  which  fol 
lowed,  more  than  thirty  of  its  members  bore  commis 
sions.  The  time  was  pressing.  Great  Britain  had 
thrown  off  the  mask.  Her  determination  was  apparent: 
to  coerce,  rather  than  conciliate,  the  refractory  colonies. 
The  latter  were  equally  ready  to  declare  themselves. 
But  the  munitions  of  war  were  not  to  be  had.  Greene, 
in  particular,  had  no  firearms.  They  were  not  the  usual 
furniture  of  a  quaker  family  They  could  only  be  pro 
cured  in  Boston.  It  was  necessary  to  go  thither.  An 
old  claim  upon  one  of  his  father's  customers,  in  that 
place,  was  the  pretext  for  his  departure;  and  the  exter 
nals  of  the  quaker,  the  drab  coat  and  the  broad  brim, 
suggested  an  adequate  disguise  for  our  adventurer  in 
the  prosecution  of  his  real  objects.  At  Boston,  Greene 
first  oeheld  a  parade  of  regulars.  The  British  troops 
were  then  in  possession  of  that  city.  Little  did  they 
suspect  the  motives  or  character  of  the  stranger  youth, 


28  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

who  looked  so  innocent  in  his  quaker  trim.  Closely  and 
earnestly  did  he  watch  their  evolutions,  and  carefully  did 
he  treasure  up  in  his  memory  the  few  hasty  military  les 
sons  which  he  caught  up  from  this  survey.  But  he  did  not 
neglect  the  first  object  of  his  mission.  He  succeeded  in 
buying  a  musket  with  all  the  necessary  accoutrements ; 
and,  with  the  aid  of  a  wagoner,  who  buried  the  treasure 
in  a  heap  of  straw  at  the  bottom  of  his  wagon,  he  con 
trived  to  smuggle  it  in  safety  beyond  the  garrison  and 
guards  of  the  enemy.  He  was  successful  in  bringing 
with  him  to  Coventry  a  treasure  of  still  greater  value, 
in  a  British  deserter,  an  excellent  drill-officer,  to  whom 
the  Kentish  guards  were  indebted  for  all  that  was  val 
uable  in  their  discipline.  The  success  of  this  enterprise 
secured  for  young  Greene  no  small  eclat  among  his  com 
panions.  The  musket  thus  procured  is  still  preserved 
in  the  family.  One  would  suppose,  from  the  summary 
which  we  have  given  of  his  employments,  that  they  were 
sufficiently  various  and  absorbing  to  satisfy  the  impulse 
and  restlessness  of  any  nature.  But  the  enterprise  which 
carried  the  young  quaker  abroad  at  midnight  to  the 
rustic  charivari,  in  defiance  of  his  father's  discipline  and 
horsewhip,  had  its  special  object,  apart  from  the  simple 
suggestions  of  a  cheerful  temperament  seeking  commu 
nion  of  its  fellows.  The  same  year  which  found  Greene 
enrolled  among  the  military,  found  him  enrolled  in  the 
ranks  of  another  order.  In  July,  1774,  he  became  the 
husband  of  Catharine  Littlefield,  at  whose  house  he  had 
chiefly  indulged  in  his  propensity  for  dancing.  She  was 
an  exceedingly  engaging  damsel,  of  good  family,  and 
but  eighteen  years  of  age.  His  position  in  life  might 
now  be  supposed  thoroughly  established.  It  is  scarcely 
possible  that  he  should  any  longer  apprehend  further 
parental  discipline,  now  that  he  was  a  politician,  a  hus 
band,  and  a  member  of  the  Kentish  guards.  It  is  the 


WEUOMES    A    HUSBAND. 


responsibility,  if  anything,  which  makes  the  man.  That 
Greene  was  sensible  of  this,  is  naturally  to  be  inferred 
from  the  recognition  of  his  claims  by  those  around  him. 
He  was  steadily  rising  in  the  estimation  of  his  neighbois, 
and  in  the  calm  consciousness  of  his  own  claims,  strength, 
and  capacity. 


LIFE    OP    NATHANAKL    GREENE. 


CHAPTER     III. 

Battle  of  Lexington. — Rhode  Island  Army  of  Observation. — Greene  it« 
General. — Is  made  a  Brigadier  in  the  Continental  Service. — Commands 
on  Long  Island. — Raised  to  the  rank  of  Major-General. — Fort  Lee. — 
Fort  Washington. — Retreat  through  New  Jersey. — Battles  of  Trenton 
and  Princeton. 

THE  preliminaries  of  the  conflict  were  all  cleared  away 
in  the  battle  of  Lexington.  Those  who  still  doubted  of 
the  struggle,  hoping  against  hope,  were  silenced  in  the 
thunders  of  the  strife  on  that  occasion.  This  affair  took 
place  in  the  spring  of  1775.  With  the  first  tidings  of 
the  battle,  the  drum  of  the  Kentish  guards  beat  to  arms. 
Already  they  were  on  their  march  to  Boston,  when  the  or 
ders  of  the  governor  of  the  province  recalled  them  to  their 
homes.  The  governor  was  a  loyalist.  It  is  curious  that, 
with  a  knowledge  of  this  fact,  the  whig  officers  of  the 
guards  should  have  obeyed  him.  They  did  so,  and  the 
troops  returned,  all  but  four  of  them,  who,  procuring 
horses,  went  at  full  speed  as  volunteers  for  Boston.  Of 
these  four,  Greene  was  one ;  one  of  his  companions  was  a 
brother;  the  remaining  two  were  his  most  trusty  friends. 
He  arrived  too  late  for  service,  but  not  for  distinction. 
His  resolute  and  independent  proceeding  opened  the  eyes 
of  his  comrades  to  his  true  claim*.  The  people  of  Rhode 
Island  were  very  soon  afforded  an  opportunity  of  showing 
how  gratefully  his  conduct  on  this  occasion  had  impressed 
them.  The  assembly  of  the  colony  voted  a  force  of 
sixteen  hundred  men,  as  an  army  of  observation,  to  meet 
the  approaching  exigency.  Its  officers  were  to  be  ap~ 


GREENE'S  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE,  31 

pointed  by  the  same  body  ;  and,  with  a  common  consent, 
Nathanael  Greene  was  raised  to  its  command  with  the 
rank  of  major-general.  The  preparations  for  war  were 
immediate.  In  a  few  days  the  troops  were  raised,  the 
organization  begun,  and  Greene  had  exchanged  the  quiet 
of  the  domestic  homestead  for  the  busy  strifes  and  anxi 
eties  of  camp.  He  had  been  married  scarce  a  year,  and 
had  just  attained  the  age  of  thirty-three.  His  personal 
appearance  at  this  period  is  described  as  singularly  com 
manding  and  impressive.  In  height  he  was  about  five 
feet  ten  or  eleven  inches.  His  frame  was  athletic  and 
symmetrical.  His  carriage  was  at  once  dignified,  erect, 
and  easy.  His  complexion  was  florid,  and  the  general 
character  of  his  face  was  that  of  manly  beauty.  His 
features  were  bold,  without  impairing  their  sweetness ; 
nor  did  the  blemish  of  the  right  eye  from  the  small-pock 
materially  diminish  the  keen  and  lively  fire  with  which 
it  sparkled,  when  in  conversation,  in  unison  with  the 
other.  The  general  expression  of  his  features  was  that 
of  a  placid  thoughtfulness,  indicative  of  a  mind  rather  con 
templative  than  passionate.  His  movements  were  free 
and  elastic,  and  his  military  carriage  totally  unimpaired 
by  the  slight  obstruction  in  the  motion  of  the  right  leg, 
which  was  due  to  his  too  severe,  but  self-imposed  labors, 
in  early  life.  His  manners  were  calm  and  thoughtful, 
rising  into  cheerfulness  when  his  mood  was  unimpressed 
by  anxiety,  and  becoming  even  playful  when  the  charac 
ter  of  his  associates,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  he 
stood,  permitted  him  to  cast  aside  the  habitual  sense  of 
his  responsibilities  and  duties.  With  a  good  heart,  a 
mind  subdued  to  its  situation,  a  confidence  in  self  which 
grew  naturally,  and  by  quiet  degrees,  with  his  acquisitions 
of  knowledge  and  society,  the  deportment  of  Greene 
was  usually  graceful  and  impressive.  With  a  rare  pli 
ancy  and  without  effort,  he  could  adapt  nimself  to  the 


32  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

iicle  in  which  he  moved  ;  and,  whether  serious  or  pleas- 

nt,  could  express  himself  with  a  facility  which  declared 

equally  for  the  extent  of  his  acquirements,  his  experience 

in  the  world,   and  the  sound  and  excellent  judgment 

which  always  informed  his  conversation. 

It  was  in  May,  1775,  that  Greene  took  command  of 
the  army  of  Rhode  Island.  Several  of  the  officers 
under  him  became,  like  himself,  distinguished  in  the  war 
which  followed.  Among  these  was  Christopher  Greene, 
the  hero  of  Red  Bank,  and  General  Varnum.  The  cap 
tain  of  the  Kentish  guards  became  a  colonel  in  tke  new 
levies.  It  required  but  a  very  few  days  to  render  the 
command  complete  in  point  of  numbers.  The  hardy 
yeomanry  of  Rhode  Island  turned  out  with  a  spiiit 
which  was  unsurpassed  by  any  of  the  colonies,  and  with 
which  the  zeal  of  very  few  could  compare.  Their  train 
ing  and  organization  were  no  such  easy  matter.  Greene 
himself  had  nearly  everything  to  learn ;  but  he  devoted 
himself  with  his  usual  industry  and  intelligence,  and  his 
acquisitions  were  extraordinary  and  rapid.  His  capacity 
for  labor,  the  readiness  with  which  he  could  bring  mind 
and  body  to  bear  upon  the  necessity  —  all  the  fruit  of 
his  early  habits  of  inquiry  and  toil — now  stood  him  in 
admirable  stead,  and  enabled  him  to  compass,  as  by 
instinct,  the  knowledge  which  other  men  only  acquire 
by  the  painful  investigations  and  work  of  years.  His 
mind  was  comparatively  free  to  the  one  great  duty  which 
was  before  him.  His  father  was  no  more ;  and  his 
brothers,  harmoniously  working  together,  might  safely 
be  intrusted  with  the  business  —  the  mills  and  forges  — 
which  formed  the  common  property  of  the  family.  It 
was  his  good  fortune,  no  less  than  his  genius,  which  ren 
dered  it  so  easy  for  him  to  address  his  toils  so  entirely  to 
the  interests  of  his  country. 

He  soon  qualified  himself  for  the  tasks  which  had 


LEAGUER    OF    BOSTON  3J 

oe6n  confided  to  him.  Early  in  June,  we  find  him  with 
his  command  engaged  in  the  leaguer  of  Boston.  The 
post  assigned  him,  with  his  contingent,  was  Prospect  hill ; 
a  conspicuous  point,  on  which,  in  the  event  of  an  assault 
from  the  enemy,  he  would  be  particularly  exposed.  To 
discipline  his  troops  for  any  event,  and  to  prepare  them 
particularly  for  this,  employed  his  whole  time  and 
thought.  When  Washington  took  the  command  of  the 
army,  in  July,  the  troops  of  Greene  were  pronounced 
"  the  best  disciplined  and  appointed  in  the  whole  army." 
The  Rhode  Island  blacksmith  had  not  been  hammering 
at  them  in  vain. 

The  arrival  of  Washington  was  an  event  in  the  career 
of  Greene.  It  afforded  him  one  of  the  noblest  acqui 
sitions  he  had  ever  made — that  of  a  friend,  a  model  of 
the  most  perfect  character  that  ever  lived.  The  quick 
appreciative  eye  of  the  great  Virginian  discovered,  in  a 
moment,  and  distinguished  by  his  favor  and  regard,  the 
rare  merits  and  talents  of  our  subject.  He  at  once 
took  him  into  his  confidence,  and  an  intimacy  grew  up 
between  them,  almost  from  their  first  meeting,  which 
was  destined  to  ripen  to  a  most  perfect  maturity,  and  to 
remain,  without  decay  or  rupture,  to  the  last.  It  was 
Greene  who,  according  to  the  usage  of  the  time,  wel 
comed  Washington  to  the  army  in  a  public  address. 
The  quarters  of  the  commander-in-chief  at  Cambridge 
were  near  the  post  which  had  been  assigned  to  the  Rhode 
Island  contingent.  The  opportunities  for  communion 
between  the  two  generals  were  accordingly  very  fre 
quent,  and  their  sympathies  did  not  allow  them  to  go 
unemployed. 

The  American  army,  soon  after  the  arrival  of  Wash 
ington,  was  placed  on  the  continental  establishment. 
The  effect  of  this  arrangement  was  to  reduce  the  rank 
of  Greene  from  that  of  a  major-general  to  that  of  a 
2* 


34  LIFE  OF  NATHAN  A  EL  GREENE. 

brigadier.  This  change,  which  was  productive  of  much 
discontent  with  the  other  officers  of  the  army  whom  it 
similarly  affected,  occasioned  no  complaint  or  repining 
with  him.  He  modestly  estimated  his  own  claims  as  a 
military  man,  and  cheerfully  yielded  to  the  arrangement 
which  seemed  to  lessen  their  importance.  His  decision 
was  probably  influenced,  in  some  degree,  by  his  deter 
mination  to  devote  himself  to  a  military  life  ;  the  change 
from  the  state  to  the  national  service  being  more  than 
equal,  in  its  advantages,  to  the  loss  of  that  rank  which 
he  held  in  the  former.  This  descent  in  grade  neces 
sarily  led  to  a  change  of  his  position  in  the  siege  of 
Boston.  It  brought  him  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  army, 
and  in  command  of  one  of  the  brigades  at  Winter  hill, 
the  station  nearest  to  the  enemy.  This  station  required 
constant  vigilance,  but  afforded  no  sufficient  employment 
for  a  mind  so  habitually  active  as  that  of  Greene.  The 
opportunities  for  distinction  were  very  few  during  the 
campaign.  The  British  showed  but  little  disposition  for 
active  encounter,  and  they  attempted  no  enterprises, 
The  task  of  simply  keeping  them  within  their  quarters 
was  irksome  only,  as  it  required  no  military  virtues 
higher  than  those  of  vigilance  and  patience.  The  spirit 
was  scarcely  more  active  among  the  Americans.  A 
council  of  war  did  meditate  an  attempt  on  Boston,  in 
the  event  of  the  ice  in  the  bay  of  Charlestown  becoming 
sufficiently  firm  to  bear  the  army ;  and  this  resolve  was 
of  special  disquiet  to  Greene,  since  it  found  him  suffer 
ing  severely  from  the  jaundice.  He  trembled  on  his 
sick  bed  lest  the  attempt  should  be  made  without  him. 
But  his  resolution  was  taken,  under  any  circumstances. 
"  Sick  or  well,"  said  he,  "  I  mean  to  be  there."  Bui. 
the  experiment  was  never  made.  Subsequently,  when 
reparations  were  begun  for  making  the  attempt  by 
water,  Greene  was  assigned  one  of  the  two  brigades. 


HIS    POLICY     AND    PATRIOTISM.  3d 

fcur  thousand  each,  of  picked  men,  who  were  designed 
for  the  service.  But  this  purpose  failed,  also.  A  med 
itated  assault  of  the  British  general,  which  might  have 
afforded  the  Americans  an  opportunity  for  trying  equally 
their  courage  and  patriotism,  was  abandoned  in  conse 
quence  of  a  sudden  tempest,  and,  hastily  embarking  his 
troops,  he  evacuated  Boston  for  New  York. 

The  leaguer  thus  undistinguished  by  active  opera 
tions,  would  have  been  wholly  without  profit  to  our 
Rhode  Island  general,  but  that  he  employed  the  year  of 
inactivity  in  unremitted  labors  to  improve  the  drill  and 
organization  of  his  brigade,  and  to  inform  himself  in 
3very  branch  of  the  service.  His  correspondence,  begun 
at  this  period  and  continued  to  the  close  of  the  war,  is 
in  proof  of  his  industry,  the  clearness  and  coolness  of 
his  mind,  his  habits  of  patient  investigation,  and  the 
eagerness  with  which  he  addressed  his  thoughts  to  all 
of  the  great  interests  which  belonged  to  the  present  and 
future  condition  of  the  country.  He  was  superior  to 
those  selfish  prejudices  which  made  the  New  England 
troops  so  unwilling  to  leave  their  own  precincts.  "I  am 
as  ready,"  said  he,  "  to  serve  in  Virginia  as  New  Eng 
land."  The  country  was,  in  his  eyes,  a  perfect  whole ; 
its  commerce  a  common  property ;  and  its  fortunes  only 
secure  in  its  continued  and  unselfish  union.  His  opinions 
were  largely  national ;  his  views  liberal  and  expansive. 
As  early  as  June,  1775,  he  declared  for  an  entire  sep 
aration  from  Great  Britain,  and  urged  a  declaration  of 
independence  as  absolutely  essential,  not  only  to  the 
future  prosperity  of  the  country,  but  as  the  only  process 
by  which  the  present  object,  the  support  of  the  French 
nation,  could  possibly  be  secured.  He  had  no  hope  of 
reconciliation  with  the  mother-country,  and  his  policy 
was  against  the  measure.  He  argued  on  these  topici 
with  his  usual  earnestness  and  boldness;  and  his  corre 


36  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

spondence,  embodying  these  and  many  other  like  opin 
ions,  on  kindred  subjects,  written  at  intervals  snatched 
from  more  arduous  employments,  and  during  great  suf 
fering  and  sickness,  while  before  Boston,  shows  equally 
the  indomitable  energies  of  his  mind,  and  the  unselfish 
ness  of  his  patriotism.  He  counselled  the  inoculation 
of  the  army,  while  the  British  forces  were  suffering  from 
small-pock  in  Boston  ;  originated  the  hospital  for  the  pur 
pose  at  Coventry;  and  gave  up  his  own  house  to  the 
object.  He  urged  the  recognition  of  one  commander 
over  all  the  forces  in  America,  to  be  sent  wherever  the 
service  should  require ;  the  enrolment  of  a  sufficient 
body  of  troops  to  be  enlisted  for  the  war;  and  many 
other  measures  of  public  policy;  which,  however  much 
doubted  and  disputed  in  that  day,  are  now  tne  settled 
axioms  of  ours.  His  letters,  in  which  all  these  prop 
ositions  are  discussed,  are  among  the  most  valuable 
remains  of  our  revolutionary  correspondence.  - 

The  removal  of  the  British  troops  from  Boston  to  New 
York,  necessarily  led  to  the  breaking  up  of  the  Ameri 
can  camp  at  the  former  place.  A  portion  of  the  ene 
my's  force  proceeded  to  Charleston,  where  they  met 
with  the  memorable  defeat  at  Fort  Moultrie.  Actin^ 

O 

upon  the  presumption  that  New  York  was  the  object  of 
the  British  commander,  Washington  ordered  his  troops 
in  that  direction.  Greene's  brigade  was  despatched  to 
Long  Island,  where  he  arrived  about  the  middle  of 
April,  and  established  his  headquarters  at  Brooklyn. 
The  division  of  the  army  posted  on  Long  Island  was 
placed  under  his  command  ;  while  the  remainder  of  the 
American  troops  were  put  in  occupation  of  New  York. 
The  fleet  of  the  enemy,  after  a  long  voyage,  entered  the 
Narrows  late  in  June.  Greene,  whose  command  was 
that  which  was  obviously  destined  for  the  first  trial  of 
strength  with  the  assailants,  devoted  himself  to  such 


BATTLE  OP  LONG  ISLAND.  37 

preparations  as  promised  to  render  the  issue  honorable 
to  himself  and  troops.  But  the  British,  for  several  weeks, 
lay  in  a  singular  state  of  inactivity  at  Staten  island,  and, 
in  the  meantime,  Greene  was  brought  to  the  verge  of 
the  grave  oy  a  bilious  fever — the  consequence  of  great 
exposure  and  extraordinary  fatigue.  It  was  while  thus 
he  lay,  anxious  and  prostrated,  the  crisis  barely  passed 
in  his  disease,  that  he  heard  the  cannon  of  the  contend 
ing  armies  resounding  in  his  ears.  No  situation  could 
have  been  more  humbling  to  the  brave  and  ambitious 
spirit.  "  Gracious  God  !"  he  exclaimed,  in  his  mental 
agony  and  disappointment,  "  to  be  confined  at  such  a 
time  !"  He  could  scarcely  lift  his  head  from  his  pillow. 
The  thought  which  added  to  his  distress  at  this  'moment, 
arose  from  the  recollection  that  he  was  the  only  general 
officer  of  the  Americans  who  had  made  himself  familiar 
with  the  scene  of  conflict.  He  it  was  who  had  explored 
highways  and  byways,  marked  equally  the  woods,  trav 
ersed  the  passes,  and  established  the  redoubts  and  forti 
fications.  He,  only,  knew  where  lay  the  greatest  peril 
which  were  the  points  most  accessible,  and  how  to  pro 
vide  against  the  exigency  which  might  occur  in  each. 

Terrible  was  the  anxiety  with  which  he  listened,  inca 
pable,  to  the  progress  of  the  cannonade,  and  received, 
from  time  to  time,  the  reports  of  the  conflict.  Bit 
ter  were  the  tears  which  he  shed  as  he  was  told  of 
the  havoc  made  in  Small  wood's  division  —  his  own  favor 
ite  regiment ;  and  long  did  he  feel  the  sore  of  that  first 
hurt  to  his  pride  and  hope,  in  a  career  which,  however 
noble  throughout,  and  triumphant  in  the  end,  was  des 
tined  to  be  particularly  distinguished  by  reverses  and 
disappointments.  The  command  of  his  brigade  had 
been  confided,  during  his  illness,  to  Major-General  Sul 
livan.  The  attack  of  the  British  was  made  late  in  Au 
gust,  and  was  pressed  with  energy  and  skill.  The  affair 


£3  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

is  sufficiently  well  known.  Sullivan  and  Stirling  were 
assailed  in  front  by  a  force  strong  enough  to  give  them 
full  employment,  while  another  column  of  the  enemy 
stealthily  made  their  way  along  the  south  side  of  the 
island,  and,  turning  the  left  wing  of  the  Americans, 
gained  their  rear  behind  the  range  of  hills  that  run  from 
Brooklyn  to  Jamaica.  The  defence  was  creditable,  but 
overborne  by  numbers.  Stirling  and  Sullivan  were  both 
made  prisoners ;  and  the  remnant  of  the  American  army 
was  fortunate  in  making  its  retreat  over  East  river,  the 
evening  of  the  day  of  the  battle,  before  the  British  had 
any  suspicion  of  their  object. 

Greene  remounted  his  horse  as  soon  as  he  dared  ven 
ture  from  his  bed.  He  was  impatient  to  retrieve  his 
position,  and  show  himself  in  the  front  of  danger.  He 
had  lost  nothing  in  public  opinion  by  his  misfortune, 
but  had  rather  gained,  in  the  general  conviction  that  had 
he  been  able  to  take  the  field  the  results  must  have  been 
much  more  gratifying  to  the  reputation  and  desires  of 
the  country.  With  the  ability  to  reappear  in  the  field, 
he  rose  to  the  higher  rank  of  a  major-general,  and  the 
resumption  of  his  duties  found  them  sufficiently  arduous 
and  important.  The  great  point  of  public  interest  and 
anxiety  was  the  city  of  New  York.  This  was  momently 
threatened  by  the  British.  Greene  was  among  those 
who  counselled  against  any  effort  to  defend  it.  Wash 
ington  went  a  step  farther,  and  actually  counselled  that 
it  should  be  burned ;  but  the  cause  itself,  of  the  Ameri 
can  revolution,  was  quite  too  doubtful  at  this  period  to 
permit,  or  indeed  to  justify,  Congress  in  a  proceeding 
which  seemed  so  desperate.  Patriotism  was  somewhat 
deficient  in  the  nerve  for  so  bold  a  measure.  Congress 
differed  from  both  these  counsellors  ;  but,  in  willing  oth 
erwise,  that  body  did  not  come  to  its  decision  with  an 
energy  sufficiently  prompt  and  stern  for  tho  achievement 


CONFLICT    AT    HARLEM.  39 

of  the  best  results.  Halting  between  two  opinions,  even 
while  the  enemy  was  pressing  his  endeavors — reluctant 
to  surrender  the  city  without  a  struggle  —  and  yet  equally 
reluctant  to  peril  the  army  in  its  maintenance  —  the  re 
sult,  as  is  usual  in  all  such  cases,  was  decidedly  injurious 
to  both  objects.  Nothing  was  done  toward  making  a 
vigorous  defence,  and  just  as  little  toward  putting  the 
army  in  a  position  of  security.  Thus  hesitating,  when 
the  evacuation  of  the  city  was  finally  resolved  upon,  it 
proved  too  late  to  prevent  a  heavy  loss  in  stores  and 
munitions  of  war,  which  were  abandoned  to  the  enemy. 
Pursued  by  the  British  with  eagerness,  a  brief  but  bril 
liant  stand  was  made  at  Harlem,  in  which  Greene  distin 
guished  himself.  It  was  his  first  battle,  and  he  describes 
it  as  a  severe  one.  He  "fought  hard"  in  it,  and  doubt 
lessly,  at  every  angry  stroke,  found  an  emollient  for 
that  wounded  self-esteem  which  still  remembered  his 
disappointment  at  Long  Island.  But  the  stand  was 
made  in  vain.  The  army  continued  its  retreat,  and  when 
Washington  marched  to  White  Plains  he  detached  Greene 
to  watch  that  portion  of  the  enemy's  forces  which  still 
occupied  Staten  island.  The  command  of  the  American 
troops  in  New  Jersey  was  assigned  him,  and  his  head 
quarters  were  at  Fort  Lee  or  at  Bergen,  as  events 
required  his  presence  at  either  place.  The  important 
object  of  his  position  was  to  keep  open  the  communica 
tion  with  the  main  army,  east  of  the  Hudson,  and  secure 
for  Washington  a  retreat,  should  circumstances  make  this 
necessary. 

These  duties  were  sufficiently  heavy,  with  inadequate 
numbers,  and  inferior  officers.  Greene  complains  bit 
terly  of  both.  His  militia  became  insubordinate,  and  he 
was  compelled,  on  one  occasion  to  bring  up  his  regulars 
to  subdue  their  insolence.  Washington,  meanwhile,  had 
been  marching  and  countermarching  to  elude  the  manoe- 


40  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

vres  of  Howe,  and  to  retard  the  progress  of  the  enemy 
across  the  Jerseys.  His  army  was  growing  hourly  more 
feeble,  and  the  troops  were  greatly  dispirited.  Short 
enlistments  and  an  unwise  deference  to  the  requisitions 
of  the  militia,  were  rapidly  reducing  the  chances  of  a 
successful  struggle.  The  British,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  exercising  their  best  energies  in  the  prosecution 
of  the  war.  In  possession  of  New  York,  their  desire 
was  naturally  to  penetrate  the  Jerseys,  and  concentrate 
their  next  regards  upon  Philadelphia.  Their  arms  were 
pointed  toward  the  position  held  by  Greene.  The  gar 
rison  at  Fort  Washington  was  endangered.  This  post  had 
been  maintained  as  a  check  upon  the  navigation  of  the 
Hudson,  but  it  was  badly  designed  and  quite  inadequate 
for  this  object.  The  British  shipping  had  already  passed 
it  with  impunity,  receiving  and  answering  its  cannonade, 
without  detriment  on  either  side.  Useless  for  the  lead 
ing  purpose  for  which  it  had  been  held,  it  was  proposed 
to  abandon  it.  Such  was  Washington's  opinion,  differ 
ing  from  that  of  Greene,  who  urged  the  importance  of 
the  place  in  obstructing  the  enemy  in  a  free  communi 
cation  with  the  country  by  way  of  Kin gsb ridge.  He 
suggested  other  considerations  for  keeping  it ;  but  these, 
perhaps,  would  not  have  been  conclusive,  had  not  Con 
gress  by  resolution,  determined  "  on  retaining  it  as  long 
as  possible."  Under  this  resolution,  Washington  wrote 
to  Greene  to  give  the  garrison  every  assistance  in  his 
power,  coupled,  however,  with  a  discretionary  power  to 
withdraw  the  command  should  it  be  necessary.  Greene 
preferred  to  maintain  the  post,  which  was  in  the  keeping 
of  Colonel  Magaw,  who  had  a  force  of  two  thousand 
men,  chiefly  drawn  from  Pennsylvania  and  Maryland. 
This  body  of  troops  was  incorrectly  supposed  to  be  com 
petent  to  its  defence.  When  threatened,  Greene  added 
to  the  garrison  a  detachment  of  six  hundred  more.  He 


CAPTURE    OF    FORT    WASHINGTON.  41 

himself  was  present  with  the  garrison  the  evening  be 
fore  the  place  was  assaulted,  encouraging  the  troops  by 
his  presence  and  the  officers  by  his  councils.  But  the  re 
sult  showed  the  error  of  attempting  the  defence,  partic 
ularly  as  the  post  could  be  commanded  from  contiguous 
heights,  and  as  an  overwhelming  force  could  be  readily 
concentrated  upon  it.  The  assault  was  made  on  the  16th 
of  November.  A  severe  conflict  followed,  in  which, 
though  successful  in  their  objects,  the  British  were  very 
roughly  handled.  They  lost  eight  hundred  men  under 
the  unerring  aim  of  the  Maryland  rifles.  With  anything 
like  an  equal  number  of  troops,  the  defence  must  have 
been  maintained  triumphantly.  But  the  numbers  of 
Howe  were  as  five  to  one,  and  his  dispositions  for  the 
assault  were  made  with  masterly  judgment.  The  garri 
son  became  prisoners-of-war.  Greene  suffered,  for  a 
time,  from  public  opinion,  which  censured  him  for  not 
abandoning  the  fort  in  season.  We  have  shown  his  rea 
sons  for  not  doing  so.  They  are  such  as  would  probably 
have  influenced  any  officer  who,  like  our  subject,  was 
new  to  military  life,  lacking  experience,  and  necessarily 
influenced  in  his  judgment  by  the  opinions  and  wishes 
of  his  superiors.  It  is  only  that  confidence  which  giows 
equally  from  indomitable  will,  and  a  veteran  career,  that 
can  venture,  in  the  face  of  authority,  to  assume  the  re 
sponsibility  of  independent  action.  Whatever  reproaches 
may  be  urged  against  Greene,  must  be  shared  equally 
with  Washington  and  Congress.  The  resolution  of  tho 
latter  stares  him  in  the  face,  and,  though  allowed  some 
discretion  by  the  former,  the  importance  of  the  post  is 
yet  dwelt  upon  as  justifying  every  pains  and  expense  in 
the  endeavor  to  preserve  it.  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
Greene,  instead  of  withdrawing  the  garrison,  added  to 
its  force  when  it  was  threatened  by  the  enemy.  It  will 
bo  no  disparagement  to  his  ability,  if  we  admit  that  he 


42  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

may  have  deceived  himself  as  to  the  strength  of  the  po» 
sition,  and  its  capacity  for  defence.  He,  himself,  had  out 
little  training  as  an  engineer,  and  in  this  branch  of  the 
service  the  American  army,  at  the  beginning  of  the  revo 
lution,  and,  indeed,  throughout  the  progress  of  the  war, 
was  lamentably  deficient.  It  was  the  consciousness  of 
this  deficiency,  that  led  to  the  undue  and  improper  ele 
vation  to  command  of  so  many  European  officers  of  small 
merit. 

The  fall  of  Fort  Washington  naturally  led  to  a  demon 
stration  upon  Fort  Lee.  Washington  anticipated  this 
attempt,  and  gave  orders  for  the  evacuation  of  the  place ; 
but  the  means  of  transportation  could  not  be  found  in 
season,  and  the  orders  of  Washington  had  scarcely  been 
received  before  the  British  force,  destined  for  the  con 
quest  of  the  fort,  was  seen  crossing  the  Hudson.  At 
the  head  of  this  force  was  Lord  Cornwallis,  with  whom 
Greene  was  subsequently  to  come  in  conflict  in  frequent 
campaigns.  With  a  strong  body  of  British  and  Hessians, 
his  aim  was  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  garrison,  toward 
the  Hackensack  river.  This  was  early  on  the  morning 
of  the  18th  of  November.  Greene  rose  from  his  bed  to 
the  encounter.  The  space  between  himself  and  the  river 
was  four  miles.  Cornwallis  was  nearer  the  object  by 
half  the  distance.  Yet  such  was  the  rapidity  and  energy 
of  the  American  general,  that  he  contrived  to  throw 
himself  in  the  path  of  the  British,  before  the  head  of  the 
river  had  been  gained,  and  keep  him  at  bay  until  Wash 
ington — to  whom  advice  of  the  danger  had,been  sent — 
could  come  up  to  his  relief.  ••  Greene's  conduct  on  this 
occasion  was  the  subject  of  as  much  eulogy  as,  in  the 
affair  of  Fort  Washington,  it  had  been  of  censure.  Leav 
ing  the  commander-in-chief  to  deal  with  Cornwallis,  he 
hurried  back  to  the  fort,  and  conveyed  the  remains  of  the 
garrison  in  safety  across  the  Hackensack. 


SURPRISE    OF    TRENTON.  43 

The  losses  of  the  Americans,  by  the  capture  and  aban 
donment  of  these  forts,  were  particularly  heavy.  They 
left  the  army  of  Washington  in  a  singularly  feeble  cot 
dition.  The  famous  retreat  through  the  Jerseys  followed 
as  a  natural  consequence  of  his  diminished  strength. 
With  but  three  thousand  men,  the  commander-in-chief 
sullenly  yielded  before  his  enemy,  until  he  threw  the 
Delaware  between  the  pursuer  and  himself.  This  was, 
probably,  the  most  melancholy  period  of  doubt,  humility, 
and  apprehension,  among  the  Americans,  in  the  whole 
course  of  the  revolutionary  struggle.  But  it  found 
Greene  as  firm  and  undespairing  as  Washington ;  ready 
for  any  sacrifice  but  that  of  popular  liberty — prepared 
to  retire  to  the  wilderness  rather  than  return  to  the  domi 
nation  of  Great  Britain.  Their  despondency  was  not 
irrational,  nor  of  serious  duration.  It  strengthened  rather 
than  impaired  their  resolution,  and,  deserving  well  of 
fortune,  they  were  now  destined  to  experience  some 
gleams  of  sunshine  through  the  cloud.  Suddenly,  at  the 
moment  of  greatest  seeming  prostration,  the  columns  of 
Washington  were  set  in  motion  for  the  surprise  of  Tren 
ton.  This  place  was  occupied  by  a  force  of  fifteen  hun 
dred  Hessians,  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Rahl. 
The  surprise  was  eminently  successful,  and  at  once  re- 
aroused  the  nation  into  hope  and  confidence.  Crossing 
the  Delaware  on  Christmas  night,  in  a  storm  of  wind  and 
rain,  a  detachment  of  the  American  army  made  its  way 
to  the  Jersey  shore,  and,  by  a  forced  march  of  nine 
miles,  succeeded  in  a  secret  progress  which  left  the  Brit 
ish  totally  unapprized  of  their  progress  until  they  felt  the 
shock  of  battle.  A  few  minutes  decided  the  affair,  in  the 
defeat  and  surrender  of  more  than  a  thousand  Hessians, 
considered  among  the  best  troops  of  the  British  army. 
This  blow  was  followed  up  by  the  masterly  manoeuvre 
against  Princeton,  by  which  all  the  sehemes  of  the  enemy 


44  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

were  defeated — his  designs  frustrated  against  Philadel« 
phia,  and  his  chain  of  posts  temporarily  broken  up.  In 
this  brilliant  coup-de-main,  as  in  the  affair  of  Trenton, 
Greene's  credit  was  considerable.  He  was  one  of  those 
by  whom  these  enterprises  were  counselled,  and,  at  Tren 
ton,  was  intrusted  with  the  command  of  the  left  wing, 
accompanied  by  Washington  in  person.  It  was  this  di 
vision  which  first  reached  the  town,  and,  having  seized 
upon  the  enemy's  artillery,  cut  off  their  retreat  to  Prince 
ton.  The  arrival  of  Sullivan  with  the  right  wing,  secured 
the  victory.  The  affair  at  Princeton  was  not  less  bril 
liant,  and,  next  to  the  claim  of  Washington,  as  command- 
er-in-chief,  must  be  that  of  Greene,  as  his  admirable  and 
efficient  second.  In  these  two  happy  victories,  achieved 
at  a  moment  when  all  seemed  desperate  in  the  condition 
of  the  nation,  the  British  were  confounded,  and  the 
Americans  proportionably  inspirited  at  proofs  in  their 
officers,  not  only  of  a  valor  which  could  look  coolly  on  the 
strife  with  the  veterans  of  Europe,  but  of  a  skill  in  strat 
egic  warfare  which  could  baffle  their  best  plans,  and  put 
all  their  experience  at  fault.  With  these  glorious  events, 
closing  the  campaign  of  1776,  the  army  of  the  Ameri 
cans,  not  exceeding  three  thousand  men,  retired  into 
winter  quarters,  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey. 


ARMY    IN    WINTER    QUARTERS.  45 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Army  in  Winter  Quarters. — Greene  sent  on  a  Mission  to  Congress 
— Explores  the  Highlands. — Manoeuvres  of  the  British. — Greene  in 
Command  of  a  Division. — Conspicuous  in  the  Battle  of  Brandywine — 
and  in  that  of  Germautown. — Sent  against  Cornwallis. — Retires  with 
the  Army  upon  Valley  Forge. 

THE  fact  that  the  two  armies  had  retired  into  winter 
quarters,  did  not  imply  inactivity  on  the  part  of  either. 
The  little  force  of  Washington,  scarcely  more  than  three 
thousand  men,  regulars  and  militia,  were  kept  sufficiently 
busy  in  watching  that  of  the  enemy,  which  numbered 
more  than  twenty  thousand.  It  was  in  being  able  to 
keep  in  check  such  an  overwhelming  force  that  the  great 
merit  of  Washington's  generalship  is  to  be  found.  The 
army  of  the  British  occupied  a  chain  of  posts  from 
Brunswick,  by  Amboy,  down  Staten  island,  and  thus 
kept  up  the  communication  with  New  York.  It  is  not 
pretended  that  any  vigilance  or  skill  of  the  American 
general  could  have  foiled  the  enterprise  of  such  a  force, 
but  for  the  absence  of  that  concentration,  which  the  occu 
pancy  of  such  an  extent  of  country  must  necessarily 
imply.  The  active  incidents  of  the  war  were  necessa 
rily  few,  and  of  little  importance,  during  the  progress  of 
the  winter.  Greene  had  his  share  of  them,  being  sta 
tioned  at  Baskingridge  with  a  separate  division.  A 
series  of  skirmishes,  which  annoyed  rather  than  discom 
fited  the  enemy,  was  maintained  during  this  period 
and  served,  in  some  degree,  to  improve  the  partisao 


46  LIFE    OF    rtATHANAEL     GREENE 

capacity  of  the  Americans.  That  Greene  profited  by 
these  lessons,  in  full  degree  with  any  of  his  contempo 
raries,  is  the  natural  inference,  equally  from  what  we 
know  of  his  past  habits  and  his  future  career.  The 
approach  of  a  more  active  career  was  necessarily  the 
result  of  the  breaking  up  of  winter. 

The  British  plan  of  the  campaign  of  1777  promised 
to  be  sufficiently  formidable.  Their  purpose  was  to  get 
possession  of  the  southern  states,  and  cut  them  off  from 
the  support  of  the  north.  Philadelphia  was  still  a  first 
object.  Burgoyne  was  to  reduce  th&  country  lying 
along  Lake  Champlain  and  the  river  Hudson;  while 
Clinton  and  Cornwallis,  operating  in  Virginia  and  the 
remote  south,  were  to  destroy,  in  detail,  the  several 
members  of  the  confederacy,  wherever  they  were  found 
most  susceptible  to  injury. 

To  meet  and  counteract  these  preparations,  Wash 
ington  strove  with  all  his  powers  for  the  reorganization 
of  the  army.  But  there  was  nothing  encouraging  in 
this  progress.  That  Congress  might  be  awakened  to  a 
proper  sense  of  its  dangers  and  duties,  Greene  was 
specially  despatched  to  Philadelphia.  This  mission  was 
intrusted  to  him,  in  consequence  of  the  fact,  now  gen 
erally  understood,  that  he  was  in  the  confidence  of  the 
commander-in-chief — a  peculiar  distinction,  which  had 
already  begun  to  produce  its  natural  effects  of  jealousy, 
suspicion,  and  reproach.  We  have  every  reason  to  be 
lieve  that  Greene  executed  this  mission,  which  was  one 
of  considerable  delicacy  and  difficulty,  with  a  rare  judg 
ment  and  discretion.  His  own  good  sense  and  expe 
rience,  not  less  than  the  detailed  counsels  of  Washington, 
enabled  him  to  set  before  Congress  the  exact  conditions 
of  affairs  —  the  exigencies  of  the  army  and  the  country ; 
the  nature  of  the  assistance  and  force  required ;  how 
the  approaching  dangers  were  to  be  met;  and  how  best 


EXPLORES  THE  HIGHLANDS.  47 

the  materials  of  the  service  were  to  be  found  and  em 
ployed.  His  return  to  the  army  afforded  him  instant 
employment  in  another  field.  Foreseeing  that  the  New 
York  highlands  were  destined  to  become  the  theatre  of 
the  most  interesting  operations,  he  was  despatched  wills 
General  Ivnox  to  explore  their  passes  ;  to  prepare  foi 
their  defence  ;  for  intercepting  the  progress  of  the  enemy, 
and  to  oppose  his  advance,  or  embarrass  his  retreat,  as 
the  nature  of  the  exigency  might  counsel. 

To  enable  him  to  effect  these  objects,  the  militia  of 
Connecticut  and  Massachusetts  were  placed  at  his  ser 
vice..  To  a  certain  extent  these  duties  were  performed 
as  prescribed ;  but  the  more  full  development  of  the 
enemy's  designs  required  the  attention  of  Greene  in 
another  quarter.  The  advance  of  Burgoyne,  from  the 
north,  was  found  to  be  simultaneous  with  a  new  effort  of 
Howe  to  penetrate  New  Jej-sey;  and,  leaving  the  desti 
nies  of  the  former  to  other  hands,  the  energies  of  the 
cornmander-in-chief  were  TJOW  addressed  entirely  to  the 
progress  of  Sir  William.  His  entreaties  and  expostula 
tions,  addressed  to  Congress,  had  not  been  successful  in 
the  reorganization  of  the  army.  He  was  scarcely  better 
prepared,  for  the  encounter  of  the  enemy,  at  the  close 
than  at  the  opening  of  the  winter.  The  dawn  of  spring, 
the  season  for  active  operations,  found  his  regiments  still 
lamentably  deficient  in  numbers,  and  desponding  from 
the  peculiar  pressure  of  casualties,  such  as  sickness  and 
small-pock,  which  continued  to  harass  and  to  enfeeble 
them.  But,  inactivity  in  an  army  is  perhaps  its  worst 
disease  ;  and,  with  this  knowledge,  though  still  greatly 
inferior  in  force,  with  his  men  badly  equipped  and  in 
great  part  undisciplined,  Washington  felt  the  necessity 
of  motion!  He  resolved,  accordingly,  to  throw  himself 
in  front  of  the  enemy,  as  soon  as  he  exhibited  a  design 
to  cross  the  Jerseys.  TVw«*r<3  the  end  of  May,  he  broke 


48  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

up  his  camp  at  Morristown,  and  took  up  a  position  at 
Middlebrook,  the  natural  advantages  of  which  he  dili 
gently  improved,  rendering  it  a  post  of  considerable 
security  and  strength.  Howe  was  already  in  the  field, 
and  about  the  middle  of  June  he  marched  out  of 
Brunswick.  Conscious  of  his  own  superiority,  it  was 
his  policy  to  bring  on  an  action  with  the  American  gen 
eral  ;  but  the  latter  was  quite  too  wary  to  be  won  by  the 
arts  of  his  rival,  who,  he  knew,  would  never  attempt 
to  descend  upon  Philadelphia,  leaving  his  enemy  in  the 
rear.  Failing  to  provoke  his  opponent,  Howe,  after  a 
sufficient  demonstration,  re-entered  Brunswick,  and  com 
menced  a  retrograde  movement,  by  way  of  Amboy,  tow 
ard  New  York.  It  was  then  that  Washington  prepared 
to  harass  his  retreating  footsteps.  The  command  of  a 
strong  detachment  was  assigned  to  Greene  for  this  pur 
pose.  His  orders  were  to  follow  close  upon  the  track, 
to  hang  upon  and  annoy  the  rear  of  the  British,  and  to 
embrace  the  first  opportunity,  upon  the  arrival  of  rein 
forcements,  which  were  expected  under  Sullivan  and 
Maxwell,  to  attack  him  with  all  his  vigor.  The  design 
was  only  carried  out  in  part.  So  far  as  it  was  possible 
for  him  to  operate  with  the  three  brigades  which  he 
commanded,  Greene's  proceedings  were  all  that  could 
be  expected  or  desired.  But  the  anticipated  reinforce 
ments  failed  him.  Sullivan  did  not  reach  the  scene  of 
interest  in  time  to  take  a  part  in  the  performance,  and 
the  despatch  to  General  Maxwell  never  reached  him, 
having  been  probably  cut  off  by  the  enemy.  Greene 
followed  upon  the  footsteps  of  the  British  rear,  anxiously 
waiting  the  appearance  of  the  expected  regiments ;  but 
in  vain.  He  pursued  as  far  as  Piscataway;  but  was 
compelled  finally  to  submit  to  the  mortifying  events  which 
enabled  the  British  to  reach  Staten  island  in  safety. 
His  troops  behaved  with  great  intrepidity  in  several 


BRITISH    THREATEN    PHILADELPHIA.  49 

demonstrations  upon  the  rear-guard  of  the  enemy,  but 
were  quite  too  few  to  venture  upon  engaging  it. 

Sir  William  Howe,  in  retreating  from  before  his 
enemy,  was  by  no  means  prepared  to  abandon  his  object. 
He  simply  drew  back,  in  order  the  more  effectually  to 
make  his  spring.  That  object  was  Philadelphia.  But 
with  great  good  fortune  and  skill,  he  contrived  to  keep 
the  Americans  in  doubt  as  to  his  intentions.  They  knew 
that  he  was  embarking  his  army  in  his  fleet ;  but  the 
destination  of  the  fleet  was  the  difficult  question,  which 
no  clue  in  his  possession  could  enable  the  American  gen 
eral  to  determine.  To  fly  to  the  defence  of  Philadel 
phia,  which  Washington  justly  thought  to  be  his  real 
object,  might  be  to  leave  to  the  enemy  a  country  open  to 
invasion ;  and  the  uncertainty  of  his  designs  was  greatly 
increased  by  the  length  of  time  which,  in  consequence 
of  baffling  winds,  the  British  were  at  sea.  All  doubts 
were  finally  dissipated  by  the  appearance  of  the  fleet  off 
Elk  river,  in  the  Chesapeake.  To  meet  him,  and  pre 
vent  his  progress  at  every  hazard,  was  now  the  necessity 
before  the  American  general.  Hastily  assembling  all  his 
disposable  forces,  he  advanced  with  the  elite  of  the  army 
to  the  meeting  with  Howe.  Greene  was  sent  forward 
to  reconnoitre  and  select  a  fit  place  for  the  encampment. 
He  chose  for  this  purpose  the  Cross-roads,  about  six 
miles  from  the  enemy.  This  point  was  sufficiently  near 
the  hostile  army  for  the  purposes  of  skirmishing  and 
conflict,  and  commanded,  in  the  rear,  an  open  countiy, 
from  which  supplies  and  succors  could  be  drawn  at  any 
moment.  But  a  council  of  war,  in  advance  of  Greene's 
report,  decided  upon  another  position,  which  he  did  not 
scruple  to  denounce  as  insusceptible  of  defence,  —  an 
opinion  which  was  subsequently  justified  entirely  by  the 
progress  of  events. 

The  division  that  Greene  commanded  was  composed 
3 


50  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

of  the  Virginia  brigades  of  Muhlenberg  and  Weedon 
"With  this  division  Washington  marched  in  person.  The 
two  armies  came  in  sight  of  each  other  on  the  ridge  that 
divides  Christiana  creek  from  the  Elk  river.  The  British 
were  estimated  at  eighteen  thousand  ;  the  force  under 
Washington  at  fifteen  thousand,  but  with  only  eleven 
thousand  fit  for  duty.  Howe  manoeuvred  with  a  view  to 
turn  the  right  of  Washington  and  cut  off  his  communi 
cation  with  Philadelphia.  To  elude  this  design,  the 
American  general  crossed  the  Brandywine  creek,  and 
throwing  up  some  slight  works  at  Chads-ford,  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  creek,  he  prepared  to  make  a  stand  in  this 
position.  Howe,  who  was  now  quite  anxious  to  measure 
swords  with  his  wary  adversary,  advanced  to  the  attack 
on  the  llth  of  September.  By  a  ruse  de  guerre,  he 
obtained  such  an  advantage  over  the  Americans  as  f.r 
render  the  results  of  the  day  quite  unsatisfactory  to  the 
latter.  While  a  large  portion  of  his  army,  under  Knyp- 
hausen,  engaged  the  Americans  in  front,  another  portion 
led  by  Cornwallis,  secretly  filed  off  upon  their  left,  crossed 
the  creek  at  another  ford,  which  had  been  left  unde 
fended,  and  was  rapidly  gaining  the  American  rear.  It 
is  said  that  Washington  had  foreseen  this  movement,  and 
would  have  prepared  against  it,  but  for  the  fact  that  his 
mind  had  been  held  in  suspense  by  contradictory  intel 
ligence.  This  may  be  so,  but  it  neither  excuses  nor  pal 
liates  the  omission.  Enough  that,  after  a  manly  struggle 
with  the  foe  in  front,  the  necessity  became  apparent  for 
providing  against  the  enemy  who  had  gained  his  rear. 
If  Washington  erred  in  any  respect,  in  suffering  this 
manoeuvre  to  deceive  him,  he  is  admitted  to  have  repaired 
his  error  by  the  readiness  and  skill  with  which  he  adapted 
his  movements  to  the  change  of  circumstances.  The 
conflict  had  terminated  in  disappointment,  if  not  defeat. 
It  was  now  necessary,  not  only  that  Cornwallis  should  be 


BATTLE    OF    BRANDYWINE.  f)\ 

arrested  in  his  advance,  but  that  Knyphausen  should  be 
kept  in  check.  To  leave  him  to  cross  the  stream  and 
fall  upon  the  rear  of  the  army,  while  it  was  engaged  in 
the  struggle  with  Cornwallis,  would  be  a  fatal  error. 
Wayne  was  accordingly  thrown,  with  his  brigade,  into 
the  redoubt  by  which  the  ford  was  commanded ;  while 
Greene's  division,  consisting  of  the  brigades  of  Weedon 
and  Muhleriberg,  was  halted  in  the  rear  of  Wayne,  occu 
pying  such  a  position  as  would  enable  him  to  fly  with 
equal  readiness  to  the  relief  of  either  of  the  parties  — 
that  which  remained  at  the  ford,  and  that  which  went  in 
pursuit  of  Howe  and  Cornwallis.  The  rest  of  the  annyf 
under  the  command  of  Sullivan,  was  hurried  forward, 
with  instructions  to  form  and  engage  the  main  army  of 
the  British  with  all  possible  expedition.  These  orders 
were  obeyed  ;  but,  in  consequence  of  a  miserable  regard 
to  etiquette,  instead  of  forming  and  fighting  as  they 
arrived  on  the  ground,  General  Sullivan  and  Lord  Stir 
ling  stopped  to  do  some  very  unnecessary  counter-march 
ing;  and  Cornwallis  very  judiciously  seized  the  oppor 
tunity  of  turning  upon  his  assailants,  and  charging  the 
Americans  while  they  were  yet  busy  in  forming  their 
line  of  battle.  Great  was  the  confusion  that  ensued, 
followed  by  a  complete  rout.  Washington  hurried  to 
the  scene  of  action,  but  not  in  season  to  avert  the  disas 
ter.  Meanwhile,  Knyphausen  recommenced  the  battle 
at  the  ford,  and  Greene  was  preparing  to  advance  to  the 
help  of  Wayne,  who  was  already  in  hot  argument  with 
him,  when  an  order  from  the  commander-in-chief  sum 
moned  him  to  the  support  of  the  forces  which  had  been 
led  against  Howe  and  Cornwallis.  With  such  alacrity 
was  this  order  obeyed,  that  the  distance  of  four  miles 
was  traversed  by  Greene's  division  in  forty-nine  minutes 
He  came  in  time  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  fugitives, 
and  to  arrest  the  fierce  and  bloody  pursuit  of  the  oxult* 


62  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

ing  enemy.  It  was  a  moment  which  needed  all  the  cool 
and  steadfast  courage  of  a  veteran  soldier;  and  Greene 
never  showed  to  greater  advantage  than  in  the  steady 
front,  and  the  firm,  unembarrassed  spirit,  with  which  he 
encouraged  his  own  troops,  and  encountered  the  British. 
While  the  brigade  under  Weedon  was  halted  in  such  a 
position  as  to  succor  and  sustain  Wayne,  should  he  be 
forced  by  the  superior  strength  of  Knyphausen,  that 
under  Muhlenberg,  led  by  Greene  in  person,  passing  to 
Wecdon's  right,  met  the  troops  of  Howe  and  Cornwallis 
upon  the  road.  With  a  firmness  and  precision  of  move 
ment,  which  compelled  the  admiration  even  of  his  foes, 
he  opened  for  the  reception  of  the  American  fugitives, 
and  closed  against  their  pursuers.  A  heavy  fire  from 
his  field-pieces  caused  a  temporary  pause  in  the  earnest 
ness  of  the  British  assault,  while,  gradually  incorporating 
the  disordered  battalions  with  his  own,  Greene  slowly 
yielded  to  a  pressure,  which  he  might  only  retard,  and 
not  arrest.  In  this  way  he  continued  the  combat  — 
stubbornly  fighting,  sullenly  retiring  —  until  his  retro 
grade  movement  brought  him  to  a  narrow  defile  through 
a  thicket,  where  his  quick  eye  readily  saw  that  a  stand 
might  temporarily  be  made.  Halting  at  this  point,  he 
hastily  ordered  his  front  for  battle ;  upon  which  the 
British  darted  with  flushed  spirits,  and  a  confidence  that 
looked  to  this  last  struggle  as  putting  a  proper  finish  to 
the  victory.  They  recoiled  from  the  well-delivered  fire 
which  encountered  them,  and  felt  the  necessity  of  a  more 
deliberate  demonstration  if  they  calculated  on  success. 
The  position  taken  was  one  which  required  time  and 
industry  before  it  could  be  turned.  The  Americans 
were  now  recovered  from  their  panic.  The  steadfast 
courage  of  their  leader  had  informed  their  own,  and, 
fortunately,  the  shades  of  night  graciously  interposed  for 
the  safety  of  the  weary  squadrons.  In  this  way,  stub- 


MANOEUVRES    OF    THE    TWO    ARMIES.  53 

bernly  fighting  and  sullenly  retiring,  with  his  face  evet 
set  against  the  enemy,  and  with  steel  and  shot  ready  to 
confront  him,  Greene  succeeded  in  saving  the  army  from 
the  complete  disaster  by  which  it  had  been  threatened, 
and  which,  with  a  general  of  less  coolness  and  nerve  than 
himself,  must  have  been  inevitable. 

Encouraged  by  the  degree  of  success  which  he  had 
obtained  in  this  conflict,  and  dissatisfied  that  his  victory 
had  not  been  made  complete  by  the  entire  capture  of 
the  American  army,  Sir  William  Howe  prepared  to 
renew  the  struggle.  Nor  was  Washington  entirely  un 
willing  to  gratify  his  desires ;  but,  with  a  force  inferior 
in  numbers  and  dispirited  by  defeat,  he  required  advan 
tages  in  the  issue,  reconciling  this  inequality,  such  as  his 
opponent  did  not  seem  willing  to  afford  him.  A  few 
days  brought  the  two  armies  once  more  within  striking 
distance  of  each  other;  and  they  were  mutually  pre 
paring  for  the  encounter,  when  a  violent  storm  tempo 
rarily  prevented  their  purpose,  and  so  damaged  the  arms 
and  ammunition  of  the  Americans,  that  Washington  was 
compelled  to  decline  fighting.  The  Americans  retired 
upon  Reading.  The  enemy  continued  his  approach  ;  and 
the  public  policy  was  supposed  to  require,  as  in  the  case 
of  TsTew  York,  that  Philadelphia  should  be  saved,  if  pos 
sible.  But  the  desires  of  government,  as  in  the  instance 
just  given,  were  not  seconded  by  the  adequate  efforts. 
Greene  was  employed  once  more  in  the  choice  of  a 
position  for  the  army,  which  would  enable  it  to  fight  or 
retreat  at  pleasure.  He  chose  a  region,  mountainous 
and  difficult  of  access,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Yellow 
Springs,  from  which  the  Americans  might  annoy  and 
harass  the  enemy  in  partial  encounters,  or  boldly  en 
deavor  to  arrest  its  passage  over  the  Schuylkill.  A 
council  of  war  again  determined  against  this  position 


54  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

preferring  a  series  of  manoeuvres  in  the  open  field,  and 
in  the  direct  face  of  the  enemy.  The  result  was,  that 
Washington  found  himself  unequal  to  the  encounter,  and 
Philadelphia  was  yielded  to  the  British  general.  He  en 
tered  it  in  triumph  on  the  26th  September;  but  it  was  an 
unfortunate  acquisition.  It  became  his  Capua,  and  its  loss 
in  this  way  was  of  real  service  to  the  cause  of  America. 
Congress  removed  to  Lancaster;  their  labors  serving 
rather  to  establish  a  central  point,  upon  which  the  several 
colonies  could  turn  their  eyes,  than  really  to  serve  the 
cause  with  any  efficient  councils.  In  some  respects  their 
proceedings  were  greatly  pernicious.  Their  resolution  to 
defend  Philadelphia,  a  place  of  no  strength  as  a  military 
position  and  of  no  importance  to  the  integrity  of  the 
cause,  may  be  described  in  this  category.  The  control 
which  they  exercised  over  the  army  was  commonly  mis 
cluevous ;  particularly  as  they  frequently  offended  that 
jealous  sensibility  with  regard  to  rank  which  is  so  impor 
tant  to  the  self-respect  of  the  soldier.  Greene,  Sullivan, 
and  Knox,  while  the  army  lay  at  Middlebrook — under 
impressions  of  injustice  arising  from  the  supposed  ele 
vation  of  a  foreigner,  just  arrived  in  the  country,  to  a 
rank  above  them  —  declared  themselves  to  Congress  in 
such  a  manner  as  greatly  to  irritate  that  great  council  of 
the  nation.  But  the  lesson,  if  prematurely  administered, 
was  probably  of  some  importance,  in  suggesting  to  the 
civil  power  a  better  regard  to  the  necessary  laws  of  rank, 
in  military  affairs,  than  it  had  been  previously  accus 
tomed  to  display.  Congress  was  very  angry,  on  this 
occasion,  with  the  general  officers  whom  we  have  men 
tioned,  as  concerned  in  this  "round  robin."  It  called 
upon  the  offenders  for  an  apology.  But  the  spirits,  sum 
moned  by  Glendower  were  not  more  ready  with  their 
answer ;  and  the  anger  of  the  parties  seemed  to  subside, 
without  further  demonstrations  on  either  side,  which 


POSITION    OP    THE    BRITISH.  55 

should  increase  the  provocation.     Let  us  return  to  the 
rival  armies. 

The  position  taken  by  the  British,  after  possession  had 
been  obtained   of  Philadelphia,  was   at  the  village   of 
Germantown,  within  six  miles  of  the  former  city.     Here 
lay  the  main  body  of  their  army;  but  detachments  of 
smaller  portions   were,  made,   some    having  immediate 
charge  of  Philadelphia,  while  others  were  engaged  in 
remote   enterprises.     The   American   army  occupied  a 
position  about  sixteen  miles  from  Germantown.     The 
troops,  though  recently  mortified  by  defeat,  were  in  good 
spirits.     Their  loss  at  Brandywine  had  been  compara 
tively  small ;  and  as  that  had  been  the  first  occasion  when 
the  greater  number  of  them  had  ever  felt  an  enemy's 
fire,  that  they  had  been  so  little  daunted  by  disaster, 
afforded  every  reason  to  hope  better  things  from  their 
future  conduct.     Washington   determined  to   try  their 
temper,  and  selected  as  the  mark  which  he  should  first 
strike,  the  main  body  of  the   British   at  Germantown. 
His  plan  meditated  a  surprise,  the  post  being  without 
other  bulwarks  than  the  ordinary  obstructions  of  house 
and  fence,  in  a  long  and  narrow  village.     In  point  of 
numbers,  the  two  armies  were  nearly  equal ;    the  differ 
ence,  however,  was   greatly  in   favor  of  the  British  as 
respects    the   equipments    and    quality   of  the   soldiers. 
The  Americans  were  mostly  raw  troops,  half-clad,  and 
miserably  provided  with  weapons.     The  enemy  were  in 
excellent  trim,  with  all  necessary  armaments  and  imple 
ments,  veterans  mostly  fro-m  foreign  service,  and  flushed 
with  recent  victory.     To  make  a  dash  at  them  under 
such  circumstances,  argued  a  degree  of  rashness  in  the 
commander-in-chief  which  has  not  often  been  imputed 
to  him.     But  something   of  audacity  was   essential  to 
keep  up  tho  spirits  of  the  natien,  which  had  been  greatly 


66  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREEXE. 

et  down  by  the  frequent  facility  of  retreat  which  their 
army  had  shown  on  preceding  occasions. 

The  order  of  battle  in  Washington's  army  assigned  the 
right  wing  to  Sullivan.  This  was  attended  by  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  in  person.  The  left  was  confided  to 
Greene,  and  consisted  of  his  own  and  Stevens's  divis 
ions,  supported  by  M'Dougall's  brigade.  The  army 
commenced  its  march  on  the  night  of  the  3d  of  Octo 
ber.  The  attack  was  made  at  break  of  day  on  the 
morning  of  the  fourth.  The  British,  well  posted,  though 
unapprized  of  danger,  were  not  unprepared  for  it.  "  Their 
line  was  divided  nearly  equally  by  the  village,  and  from 
its  right,  strong  detachments  were  posted,  at  intervals,  as 
far  as  the  ridge  road."  This  road,  which,  at  this  point, 
approaches  very  near  the  Schuylkill,  was  guarded  by  the 
German  chasseurs.  "  In  advance  of  the  village,  on  the 
Germantown  road,  was  posted  a  battalion  of  light-infan 
try,"  and  a  little  in  their  rear  was  the  40th  regiment, 
under  Colonel  Musgrove.  Advanced  upon  the  limekiln 
road  was  the  battalion  of  light-infantry ;  and  on  that  of 
York,  the  Queen's  rangers.  Both  roads  were  measura 
bly  watched  by  the  1st  and  2d  battalions  of  the  Guards, 
which  occupied  prominent  points  between  them.  The 
British  army,  as  may  be  seen  from  these  statements,  was 
judiciously  ordered  for  defence  against  every  point  of 
attack.  No  precautions  were  spared,  and  the  failure  of 
the  attempt  of  the  Americans  was  probably  due  to  the 
vigilance  of  his  patrols. 

The  night  was  an  obscure  one,  and  the  morning 
dawned  imperceptibly  in  fog.  The  approach  of  the 
Americans  was  known  to  the  British  sufficiently  long  to 
afford  them  time  for  every  preparation;  but  the  former, 
prosecuting  a  midnight's  march,  in  a  darkness  more  than 
commonly  dense,  struggled  on,  without  any  apprehen 
sions  of  an  enemy  forewarned  and  deliberately  awaiting 


BATTLE    OF    GERMANTOWN.  57 

them.  Their  progress  was  a  painful  one,  over  fence  and 
ditch,  through  bog  and  forest,  seldom  able,  at  any  period, 
to  distinguish  objects  in  the  gloom  at  an  arrow-shot  be 
yond  them.  The  break  of  day  scarcely  aided  their  prog 
ress,  though  it  found  them  near  the  scene  of  act' on. 
They  were  suddenly  roused  to  a  due  sense  of  its  ap 
proach,  by  a  smart  firing  in  the  direction  of  the  "ridge" 
road,  which  had  been  pursued  by  the  American  militia 
under  General  Armstrong.  Believing  this  to  be  the 
quarter  at  which  the  assault  of  the  Americans  was  to  be 
seriously  made,  and  that  their  appearance  in  front  was 
only  meant  as  a  diversion  —  conscious,  too,  that  this 
would  have  been  the  better  policy  of  the  assailants — tha 
British  commander  strengthened  his  chasseurs  by  strong 
reinforcements.  Unhappily,  the  militia  afforded  him  but 
little  occasion  for  these  precautions.  They  scarcely 
looked  the  chasseurs  in  the  face,  and  the  latter  proved 
quite  equal  to  the  defence  against  such  customers. 
The  reinforcements  sent  to  this  quarter  by  the  British, 
were  speedily  withdrawn  to  the  left  wing,  which  they 
reached  and  strengthened  at  the  critical  moment.  The 
action  had  begun  at  this  quarter  in  the  steady  advance 
of  the  column  under  Sullivan.  The  battalion  of  British 
infantry,  which  this  column  first  encountered,  having  de 
livered  their  fire,  yielded  before  the  bayonets  of  Con- 
way's  brigade.  Striking  into  the  Germantown  road, 
Colonel  Musgrove,  with  the  40th  regiment,  rushed  for 
ward  to  sustain  them,  and  the  battle  raged  warmly  for 
a  while,  until  the  British,  feeling  now  the  whole  pres 
sure  of  Sullivan's  arm  upon  them,  again  yielded  before  it. 
The  scale  was  about  to  turn  decidedly  in  favor  of  the 
Americans.  They  had  forced  their  way  into  the  village, 
and  the  squadrons  which  had  been  brought  to  encounter 
their  advance,  had  twice  proved  inadequate  to  the  pur 
pose.  But  the  brave  Englishman,  yielding  slowly  to  tb.? 
3* 


58  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

pressure  which  he  could  not  oppose,  was  prepared  to  avai" 
himself  of  every  opportunity  for  showing  front  and  offer 
ing  resistance.  At  the  head  of  the  village,  directly  in 
the  route  to  be  pursued  by  the  Americans,  stood  a  strong 
mansion-house  of  stone.  This  afforded  a  means  for 
arresting  the  assailants,  of  which  Musgrove,  with  a 
quick  military  appreciation  of  its  advantages,  readily 
took  possession.  "With  five  or  six  companies  he  quickly 
occupied  its  walls,  while  the  rest  of  his  division  fell  back 
upon  the  main  body  of  the  army.  The  fog  lifted  at  this 
moment,  and  the  advancing  column  of  Sullivan  found 
itself  arrested  by  a  murderous  fire  from  the  windows  of 
the  building  occupied  by  Musgrove.  Here,  unhappily, 
with  the  view  to  the  capture  of  the  detachment  by  which 
it  was  occupied,  the  assailing  division  was  halted  for  sev 
eral  precious  minutes.  Knox's  artillery  was  opened  upon 
the  walls  of  stone,  the  unknown  thickness  of  which  gave 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  a  breach  could  be  readily  effect 
ed.  But  the  delay  being  greater  than  had  been  expected, 
Washington,  who  rode  up  to  note  the  effect  of  Knox's 
bullets,  finally  ordered  the  column  to  push  forwaid,  leav 
ing  a  single  regiment  to  observe  and  keep  in  check  the 
temporary  garrison.  To  avoid  the  fatal  fire  from  the 
windows,  the  army  inclined  to  the  right  and  left,  and 
pressed  onward  to  the  encounter  with  other  and  no  less 
serious  difficulties.  "  The  left  wing  of  the  British  army 
had  advanced  as  the  filing  on  the  road  commenced,"  and 
the  whole  line,  extending  from  the  Germantown  to  the 
Limekiln  road,  was  drawn  up  so  as  to  meet  the  attack 
of  both  the  American  columns.  This  required  a  new 
disposition  of  the  troops,  which  lost  still  more  of  the  val 
uable  time.  Posts  and  fences  were  to  be  torn  away  for 
the  passage  of  troops,  horses,  and  artillery,  and  before 
one  portion  of  the  army  could  do  the  work  of  pioneer 
ing,  the  other  half  had  expended  all  its  ammunition 


GREENE  S    DIVISION    AT    GERMANTOWN.  59 

Such  was  the  fortune  of  the  column  under  Sullivan 
That  under  Greene  was  necessarily  influenced  and  injuri 
(Hisly  affected  by  the  events  which  had  taken  place  upon 
the  right.  It  had  reached  the  scene  of  action  at  the  con 
templated  moment.  Here  it  was  encountered  vigorously 
by  the  light-infantry  of  the  British.  This  body  of  troops, 
however,  was  compelled  to  retreat,  and  continued  to  do 
so  in  good  order,  though  pressed  by  the  American  light 
troops,  and  galled  by  their  artillery.  Through  fog  and 
darkness,  with  objects  scarcely  visible  at  thirty  yards,  the 
assailants  felt  their  way  with  the  bayonet,  firing  only 
when  the  flash  from  the  British  guns  enabled  them, 
with  tolerable  accuracy,  to  seek  a  mark.  With  the 
lifting  of  the  darkness,  at  the  dawn  of  day,  the  objects 
of  search  and  assault  were  scarcely  made  more  apparent. 
Reaching  the  ground  directly  east  of  the  stone-house 
into  which  Musgrove  had  thrown  himself,  Greene's  at 
tention  was  drawn  to  the  warm  discharges  of  firearms 
which  announced  the  conflict  of  the  other  column  with 
the  enemy.  To  halt,  reconnoitre,  and  finally  to  display, 
for  the  struggle  with  him  also,  was  the  work  of  little 
time  ;  but  the  progress  of  events,  totally  beyond  Greene's 
knowledge,  had  rendered  nugatory  the  previous  arrange 
ments  for  the  battle.  In  the  original  disposition  of  the 
American  forces,  it  was  contemplated  that  Sullivan 
should  meet  and  fight  that  part  of  the  enemy's  force 
which  was  encamped  to  the  west  of  the  village,  and 
Greene  that  part  which  lay  to  the  east."  But  the  newly- 
formed  front  of  the  British,  rendered  a  new  organiza 
tion  necessary  for  Sullivan,  and  threw  one  half  of  his 
column  on  the  same  side  of  the  village  with  Greene's. 
Here,  expecting  only  to  find  an  enemy,  the  rear  line, 
composed  of  Stevens's  division,  in  the  obscurity  of  tho 
morning,  fired  upon  Wayne's  division,  which  constituted 
Sullivan's  left.  The  front,  finding  itself  between  two  fires 


60  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

was  thrown  into  confusion.  Greene,  meanwhile,  whose 
division  was  on  the  left  of  the  whole,  pressing  forward  to 
feel  the  British,  opened  also  upon  the  other  column.  A 
panic  necessarily  followed  which  was  fatal  to  the  order 
of  Sullivan's  division.  They  broke  and  yielded  on  each 
hand,  in  spite  of  all  the  efforts  of  their  officers,  leaving 
Greene's  command  to  the  encounter  with  the  enemy, 
which,  it  is  alleged,  was  never  better  sustained  by  the 
most  determined  veterans.  It  effected  the  service  which 
had  that  day  been  assigned  it ;  broke  the  British  right, 
drove  them  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  and  made  a  large 
number  of  prisoners  —  its  very  zeal  proving  fatal  in  the 
sequel,  since,  "  by  pressing  forward  in  the  pursuit,  while 
Stevens  was  embarrassed  and  detained,  its  right  flank 
became  exposed ;  and  two  regiments  on  the  left  of  the 
British  line,  not  being  confronted  by  any  part  of  the 
American  force,  were  at  liberty  to  wheel  upon  the  left  of 
Sullivan."  The  battle,  which  had  been  almost  won,  was 
soon  entirely  lost.  The  confusion  in  the  column  of  Sul 
livan  was  irretrievable.  By  this  time,  the  light  of  day 
was  sufficient  to  discover  to  Greene  the  danger  which 
threatened  his  unsheltered  flank.  The  rout  which  pre 
vailed  on  his  right,  was  sufficiently  monitory,  and,  with  a 
sullen  anger,  he  gave  orders  for  retreat  from  that  field, 
which,  but  a  little  while  before,  he  had  fancied  all  his  own. 
With  practised  troops,  even  then,  the  event  of  the  day 
might  have  been  retrieved  ;  but  with  raw  and  inexperi 
enced  soldiers,  the  difficulties  and  dangers  which  men 
aced  the  retreat,  presented  to  the  minds  of  their  leaders 
a  more  arduous  and  perilous  duty  than  that  through 
which  they  had  already  gone.  Musgrove  still  occupied 
his  fortress  of  stone ;  the  British  army  had  recovered 
from  its  surprise,  and,  with  the  light  increasing  and  gui 
ding  their  manoeuvres,  were  pressing  forward  with  the 
growing  hope  of  c©nverting  a  partial  defeat  into  a  com 


GREENE'S  SHARE  IN  THC  AFFAIR.  61 

plete  victory.  To  encourage  them  in  this  hope,  Corn- 
wallis,  with  a  strong  body  of  fresh  troops,  was  pushing 
on  from  Philadelphia,  having  been  aroused  at  the  first 
sounds  of  the  conflict.  To  retreat,  under  such  circum 
stances,  was  a  serious  matter,  and  Greene  devoted  him 
self  to  the  task  of  timing  and  regulating,  with  firmness 
and  coolness,  the  retrograde  movement  which  was  now 
inevitable.  To  keep  his  men  from  panic  or  despondencv 

—  to  retire  sternly  and  sullenly,  like  the  wounded  wolf 
who  turns  momently  to    rend    the    incautious    pursuer 

—  to  guard  the  rear  with  dogged  watch  and  vigilance 

—  were   duties    in    the   prosecution   of   which    Greene 
pertinaciously    exposed    his    person    in    a   manner   that 
showed  equally  his  devotion  to  his  troops  and  the  deep 
mortification  which  he  felt  at  being  forced  to  forego  a 
victory  within  his  very  grasp.     The  action  had  been  a 
long  and  sharp  one.     It  had  lasted  nearly  two  hours  and 
a  half.    The  lost  in  killed  and  wounded  was  nearly  equal 
on  both  sides,  each  being  seven  or  eight  hundred.     The 
Americans  suffered  the  additional  loss  of  four  hundred 
prisoners  in  the  surrender  of  Mathews's  regiment.    They 
brought  off  all  their  artillery.     The  pursuit  was  vigor 
ously  urged  by  the  British,  was  continued  for  about  five 
miles,  and  was  marked  by  frequent  conflict.    Of  this  bat 
tle,  Washington  and  Greene  both  concurred  in  the  opin 
ion  which  the  former  expressed  in  his  letter  to  Congress, 
that  "  our  troops  retreated  at  the  instant  when  victory  was 
declaring  in  our  favor."     The  British  opinion  was,  that 
"  in  this  action  the  Americans  acted  on  the  offensive,  and, 
though  repulsed  with  loss,  showed  themselves  a  formida 
ble  adversary,  capable  of  charging  with  resolution,  and 
retreating  with  order."    Greene's  enemies  found  several 
causes  for  censure  in  the  part  which  he   took  in  the 
affair ;  but  his  reputation  has  survived  the  assault,  and  the 
opinion  of  his  more  intelligent  contemporaries,  affirmed 


62  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

by  the  deliberate  judgment  of  posterity,  assigns  to  him 
the  credit  of  a  fair  share  of  all  that  was  meritorious  in 
the  action. 

If  the  Americans  did  not  succeed  in  the  surprise  and 
capture  of  the  British  at  Germantown,  they  gave  them, 
in  the  language  of  the  provincials,  "  a  mighty  bad  scare." 
It  was  not  long  that  they  remained  in  this  position.  They 
felt  too  sensibly  the  danger  of  a  post  which  was  so  ac 
cessible  to  the  assaults  ©f  a  vigilant  and  enterprising 
enemy,  and  retired  upon  Philadelphia.  Howe,  mean 
while,  directing  all  his  efforts  to  opening  a  communica 
tion  with  his  fleet,  ordered  a  reinforcement  from  New 
York.  With  his  eye  keenly  fixed  on  all  his  operations, 
Washington  lay  at  Whitemarsh,  but  fifteen  miles  distant 

—  not  satisfied  with  the  disappointment  at  Germantown — 
and  eager,  with  better  hopes,  to  try  the  experiment  again. 
An  opportunity  was  supposed  to  offer  itself  in  a  threat 
ened  descent  of  Comwallis  upon  the  Jerseys.     With  a 
force  of  three  thousand  men,  he  crossed  from  Chester  to 
Billingsport.    He  had  before  him  the  twofold  object  of 
collecting  supplies  for  the  army,  and  of  opening  the  nav 
igation  of  the  Delaware  by  the  reduction  of  Fort  Mercer 

—  or  Red  Bank  —  a  place  already  famous  by  its  defence, 
under   Colonel  Greene,  against  Count  Donop   and  his 
Hessians. 

It  was  determined,  on  the  part  of  the  Americans,  to 
despatch  a  force  into  the  Jerseys,  for  the  purpose  of  baf 
fling  the  designs  of  Cornwallis  ;  and  General  Greene  was 
chosen  to  its  command.  He  proceeded,  with  due  dili 
gence,  upon  his  mission,  but,  before  a  junction  could  be 
formed  of  his  own  with  the  brigades  of  Huntingdon  and 
Varnum,  then  in  the  Jerseys,  the  army  under  Cornwal 
lis  had  been  so  greatly  strengthened,  by  reinforcements 
from  New  York,  as  to  render  idle  and  improper  any  de 
cisive  demonstrations  on  the  part  of  the  Americans, 


WINTER    QUARTERS.  G3 

Greene,  however,  hung  upon  the  left  wing  of  the  enemy, 
until  recalled  by  Washington,  who  had  reason  to  appre 
hend  for  the  safety  of  the  main  army,  in  consequence  of 
a  movement  of  Cornwallis,  which  promised  to  unite  the 
forces  of  the  latter  with  those  under  Howe.  Such  a 
junction  would  have  placed  it  in  the  power  of  the  Brit 
ish  general-in-chief  to  strike  an  effective  blow  at  the 
American  army,  unless  strengthened  by  the  concentra 
tion  of  all  their  detachments.  It  was  the  last  of  Novem 
ber  when  Greene,  with  his  column  joined  Washington  at 
Whitemarsh.  Here  the  army  remained  till  the  night  of 
the  12th  of  December,  certain  movements  of  the  British 
leading  to  apprehensions  of  an  attack.  But  the  storm 
passed  over  in  cloud  and  murmur,  and,  content  with  a 
vigilant  watch  upon  each  other,  the  opposing  armies 
tacitly  agreed  to  forego  more  active  enterprises  for  the 
season.  The  Americans  went  into  winter  quarters  at 
Valley  Forge,  about  sixteen  miles  from  Philadelphia, 
while  the  British,  within  and  about  that  city,  after  all 
their  battles  and  successes,  were  content  with  just 
enoucc^  conquered  territory  to  spread  their  blankets 
up  OP 


64  MFfi    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Greene  becomes  Quartermaster-General. — The  British  evacuate  Pls» 
delphia. — Pursued  by  Washington. — The  Battle  of  Monmouth. — rx*  & 
Conduct  of  Greene  in  that   Battle. — Joins   Sullivan  in  an  Attempt  ca 
Newport. — Engages    the    British. — Retires   before    them  on  the  Ap 
proach  of  Clinton. 

WINTER  quarters  at  Valley  Forge,  in  the  present 
condition  of  the  American  army,  though  promising  res 
pite  from  the  active  enterprises  of  war,  contained  no 
other  promise.  Repose,  quiet,  plenty — all  of  which 
seem  ordinarily  implied  in  such  a  withdrawal  from  the 
fields  of  war  —  were  singularly  wanting  to  our  troops  on 
this  occasion.  Without  clothing  or  provisions  —  without 
order,  method,  or  a  proper  officer  to  attend  to  the  duty 
of  providing  the  famished  and  harassed  soldiers  — 
Washington  was  compelled  to  issue  orders  to  forage,  as 
in  an  enemy's  country.  This  painful  duty  was  devolved 
on  Greene.  He  naturally  shrunk  from  a  task  so  irk 
some  ;  but  the  obligation  of  service  was  paramount  to 
all  others,  and,  however  reluctantly,  he  complied  with 
the  requisition.  He  scoured  the  woods  and  meadows, 
and  found  spoil  in  plenty.  The  patriotism  of  the  quakers 
contemplated  no  sacrifices ;  and  the  gold  of  Britain,  which 
flowed  abundantly  in  Philadelphia,  possessed  a  value, 
in  their  eyes,  very  far  superior  to  that  which  belonged  to 
the  depreciated  currency  of  Congress.  Their  cattle  and 
provisions,  designed  for  those  who  could  pay  in  the 
precious  metals,  were  found  concealed  in  swamp  and 
thicket.  Greene's  scruples  at  appropriating  them,  if  he 


BECOMES    QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL.  65 

had  any,  were  removed  by  the  orders  of  Congress — the 
resolves  of  which  body  rendered  liable  to  impressment 
whatever  was  wanted  for  the  army  within  seventy  miles 
of  the  camp.  However  firmly,  he  performed  his  spirit 
ing  gently;  with  as  much  order  and  regard  to  the  sensi 
bilities  of  the  sufferer,  as  were  consistent  with  the  char 
acter  of  the  proceeding. 

The  manner  in  which  he  executed  these  duties — his 
known  habits  of  method,  systematic  arrangement,  and 
unwearying  regard  to  the  smallest  details  of  business  — 
suggested  to  Washington  the  importance  to  the  army  of 
employing  him  in  the  department  of  quartermaster-gen 
eral.  This  office,  one  of  the  most  vitally  important  to  the 
successes  and  safety  of  an  army,  had  hitherto  been  con 
fided  to  incompetent  persons,  by  whom  it  had  either  been 
grossly  neglected  or  infamously  mismanaged.  Greene 
was,  however,  quite  unwilling  to  accept  this  office.  He 
disliked  any  appointment  which  required  the  keeping  and 
expenditure  of  the  public  money;  and  was  unwilling  to 
forego  any  of  the  opportunities  which  might  offer,  of 
active  performance  in  the  regular  line  of  the  army.  It 
was  only  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  Washington,  who 
appealed  to  him  to  make  the  sacrifice,  that  he  finally 
consented;  stipulating,  meanwhile,  that  he  should  not 
lose  his  right  of  command  in  action. 

His  acceptance  of  the  office,  at  once  relieved  the 
commander-in-chief  from  most  of  his  annoyances  on  the 
score  which  had  hitherto  distressed  the  army,  and  threat 
ened  its  disbandment.  The  integrity  of  Greene,  his 
precision,  order,  comprehensive  grasp  of  details,  and 
various  resources,  produced  the  happiest  effects.  Order 
sprang  from  chaos,  light  from  darkness,  and  confidence, 
in  the  minds  of  the  people,  from  doubt  and  apprehension. 
The  whole  course  of  his  administration,  in  this  new 
department,  was  such  as  to  reflect  the  highest  credit  upor. 


66  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE, 

himself,  and  bring  the  most  incalculable  advantages  to 
the  service.  But  his  couch  was  by  no  means  spread 
with  roses.  This  "hutting  at  Valley  Forge"  during  the 
winter  quarters  of  1777,  was  neither  a  period  of  hope 
nor  repose.  It  is  true  that  the  wives  of  both  Washington 
and  Greene  were  present  in  the  camp ;  but  the  peace 
of  Eden  was  not  implied  by  the  presence  of  woman  in 
the  garden.  It  was  during  this  memorable  winter  that 
the  intrigues  which  threatened  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
the  country,  by  the  overthrow  of  Washington,  became 
most  active  under  the  spells  and  machinations  of  Con- 
way,  Gates,  Lee,  and  others.  "  Conway's  cabal"  is 
sufficiently  known  to  history,  to  render  it  needless  that 
we  should  do  more  than  refer  to  it  in  this  connexion. 
The  intimacy  of  Greene  with  Washington,  rendered  it 
natural  that  he  should  share  in  all  the  odium  and  all  the 
danger  by  which  the  commander-in-chief  was  assailed. 
He,  indeed,  was  the  frequent  mark,  on  occasions,  when 
Washington  was  the  special  victim  ;  and,  where  the  rank 
and  station  of  the  latter  rendered  him  secure  against 
the  assailant,  Greene  was  usually  chosen  as  the  substi 
tute  against  whose  bosom  the  shaft  of  malice  might  more 
surely  tell.  In  other  words,  the  blow  was  frequently 
made  at  Washington  over  the  shoulders  of  the  man  who 
was  his  favorite  ;  and  the  hostility  thus  exercised  and 
tutored,  continued  to  rage  against  him,  long  after  it  had 
despaired  to  do  hurt  to  the  more  distinguished  object  of 
dislike.  Undoubtedly,  a  great  deal  of  this  hostility  was 
due  to  his  individual  claims  and  position.  His  integrity, 
which  they  could  not  shake ;  his  alliance  with  Washing 
ton's  cause,  which  they  could  not  lessen  or  disturb  ;  his 
prudence,  which  they  failed  to  put  at  fault ;  his  growing 
reputation,  which  they  vainly  endeavored  to  disparage, 
and  which  was  calculated  to  compel  the  finger  of  public 
confidence  to  point  to  him  as  the  only  proper  successor 


CAMPAIGN    OPENS    OF    1778.  67 

to  Washington,  —  these  were  all  qualities  and  circum 
stances  which  stimulated  the  rage  of  faction,  and  irritated 
the  sore  sensibilities  of  envy  and  self-esteem.  That  the 
conspiracy  of  which  Washington  and  Greene  were  the 
destined  victims,  failed  utterly  of  its  intended  objects, 
did  not  lessen  the  anxieties  of  the  injured  parties,  or  pre 
vent  that  frequent  grief  and  bitterness,  which  naturally 
flow  tc  the  innocent  from  such  a  malicious  warfare. 

The  season  for  active  operations  was  now  at  hand, 
and  Washington  steadily  addressed  all  his  energies  to 
the  task  of  preparing  his  army  for  its  duties.  His  win 
ter  quarters  had  not  been  consumed  in  idleness.  With 
his  men  and  officers,  for  the  first  time  beneath  his  eye, 
he  had  employed  the  opportunity,  which  it  afforded,  of 
improving  their  common  discipline.  With  his  force 
gradually  increasing  in  numbers,  he  might  now  reason 
ably  calculate  on  a  campaign,  in  which  a  modest  con 
fidence  in  his  own  resources  might  justify  him  in  taking 
the  initiate  in  enterprise.  The  capture  of  Burgoyne's 
army  was  an  event  which  confirmed  the  revolution  at 
home,  and  determined  the  doubts  of  those  foreign  nations 
who  longed,  but  hesitated,  to  become  allies  of  the  rebel 
lious  colonies.  These  events  led  to  auguries  with  regard 
to  the  forthcoming  campaign,  which  naturally  deepened 
the  anxieties,  while  increasing  the  hopes,  of  the  Ameri 
cans.  That  Washington  was  in  a  condition  to  commence 
the  campaign  at  all,  was  greatly  due  to  the  rare  and 
valuable  exertions  of  his  newly-appointed  quartermaster- 
general. 

The  British  general  Howe,  meanwhile,  had  been 
superseded  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  Intelligence,  that  a 
French  fleet  had  sailed  to  intercept  the  British  army  in 
the  Delaware,  led  to  the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia. 
With  eleven  thousand  men,  Clinton  marched  from  that 
city,  crossing  the  Delaware  or  the  18th  of  June.  1778. 


68  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

His  course  was  through  the  Jerseys.  The  aim  of 
Washington  was  to  thwart  this  progress,  retard  the 
march,  destroy  the  enemy  in  detail,  and,  if  no  opportu 
nity  offered  for  less  perilous  enterprise,  to  bring  on  a 
general  action.  His  force  was  nearly  equal  to  that  of 
the  British,  and  he  crossed  into  the  Jerseys  about-  the 
same  moment.  By  the  22d  of  June,  the  whole  of  the 
Americans  were  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Delaware, 
and  in  a  condition  and  position  to  offer  the  enemy  battle. 
But,  upon  the  policy  of  this  proceeding,  much  discussion 
ensued  among  the  American  generals.  Charles  Lee, 
and  most  of  the  foreign  officers  —  indeed,  a  majority  of 
the  board  of  war  —  were  decidedly  against  fighting. 
Wayne  and  Cadwallader  were  as  decidedly  for  the  arbit 
rament  of  the  sword,  and  their  opinions  were  enforced 
by  those  of  Greene,  La  Fayette,  and  Hamilton,  who, 
without  urging  battle  at  all  hazard,  were  disposed  to 
follow  up  the  enemy  closely,  protect  the  country  from 
his  ravages,  and  seize  upon  whatever  chances  might 
seem  to  promise  a  favorable  issue  for  bringing  on  the 
final  encounter.  Lee,  whose  faith  in  British  valor  was 
only  surpassed  by  his  utter  want  of  faith  in  the  steadiness 
of  the  Americans,  was  opposed  to  any  risks,  however 
partial,  which  might  result  in  conflict.  Fortunately, 
Washington  had  been  authorized  by  an  express  vote  of 
Congress,  which  had  been  ascribed  to  the  advice  of 
Greene,  to  exercise  his  own  discretion  in  regard  to  the 
decisions  of  his  council.  It  was  an  advisory  body,  only, 
whose  opinions  he  might  follow,  or  not,  under  the 
guidance  of  his  own  judgment.  The  opinions  of  Greene 
and  La  Fayette  determined  his  resolve  against  the  sug 
gestions  of  the  majority.  "  You  wish  me  to  fight,"  said 
he  ;  and  the  orders  soon  followed  which  led  to  the  battle 
of  Monmouth. 

He  had  approached  this  place,  following  his  enemy 


BATTLE    OF    MONMOUTH.  69 

with  a  close  but  watchful  step,  when  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  moment  for  action  had  arrived.  La 
Fayette,  meanwhile,  had  been  detached  with  a  strong 
body  of  troops,  instructed  to  hang  upon  the  British  rear, 
and,  with  discretion,  to  act,  if  circumstances  should  en 
courage  him  to  do  so.  Other  detachments,  riflemen  and 
militia,  were  in  advance  of  him  and  on  his  flanks.  To 
protect  his  enormous  baggage-train  from  these  parties, 
Clinton  placed  them  under  Knyphausen,  with  a  very  strong 
escort,  while  he  united  the  rest  of  his  force,  in  the  rear 
to  check  the  too  close  approach  of  the  parties  by  which 
it  was  threatened.  The  interval  between  the  force  of 
Knyphausen,  and  that  by  which  the  rear  was  accompa 
nied,  suggested  to  Washington  the  idea  of  concentrating 
his  assault  upon  the  latter.  It  was  advisable  to  hasten 
the  attack,  accordingly,  before  the  enemy  should  reach 
the  high-grouds  of  Middletown,  about  twelve  miles  dis 
tant,  where  he  would  be  measurably  safe.  A  strong 
detachment,  under  Lee,  was  sent  forward  to  join  La 
fayette,  with  instructions  to  engage  the  enemy,  and 
keep  him  employed  until  the  rest  of  the  forces  could 
be  brought  up.  Lee,  ranking  Lafayette,  took  the  com 
mand,  upon  the  junction  of  their  separate  detachments. 
In  pursuance  of  orders,  he  proceeded  to  engage  the  en 
emy,  but  not  seemingly  with  any  desire  to  bring  on  the 
action  in  earnest.  A  very  short  trial  of  strength  found 
him  in  full  retreat — exhibiting  a  degree  of  misconduct 
which  the  world  esteems  to  have  been  wilful,  and  to  have 
been  prompted  by  that  incendiary  spirit,  engendered  in 
the  cabal  of  Conway,  the  object  of  which  was  to  bafflfc 
the  enterprises  of  Washington,  lose  him  the  confidence 
of  the  country,  and  thrust  him  from  the  eminent  position 
which  he  enjoyed.  In  this  purpose,  however,  Lee  only 
wrecked  himself.  He  was  already  retiring  from  the  field 
of  Monmouth,  when  Greene,  in  command  of  the  right 


70  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

wing,  approached  the  scene  of  action.  He  had  been 
ordered  to  a  particular  position  in  the  rear  of  the  ene 
my's  left,  but  the  change  of  circumstances,  which  fo 
lowed  upon  the  hasty  flight  of  Lee,  forced  upon  him  the 
necessity  of  using  his  own  discretion  in  the  choice  of 
another  position  ;  and  here  it  was,  according  to  the  com 
mon  opinion,  that  he  rendered  the  most  signal  service  in 
checking  and  repelling  the  pursuit  of  the  British,  which 
must  otherwise  have  proved  irresistible.  Washington, 
on  first  meeting  with  Lee  in  full  retreat,  indignantly  re 
proached  him  with  his  conduct,  and  commanded  him  to 
face  about  and  engage  his  pursuers  at  all  hazards,  while 
he  brought  up  the  main  body  of  the  army  to  his  sup 
port.  Aided  by  a  sharp  fire  from  the  artillery  of  the 
first  line,  Lee  was  enabled  to  obey  these  orders.  He 
turned  about  in  good  earnest,  and,  after  a  spirited  but 
not  prolonged  conflict,  he  retired  in  good  order  from  the 
field.  It  was  during  this  conflict  that  Greene  appeared 
with  his  column.  A  movement  of  the  enemy  which 
threatened  Washington's  right,  caused  him  to  order 
Greene  to  file  off  from  the  road  to  Monmouth,  and, 
while  the  residue  of  the  army  pushed  directly  forward, 
to  win  his  way  into  the  wood  in  the  rear  of  the  courthouse. 
He  was  already  on  his  route,  in  obedience  to  his  orders, 
when,  foreseeing,  from  the  flight  of  Lee,  that  Washington 
must  now  be  exposed  to  the  whole  weight  of  the  ene 
my's  attack,  he  suddenly  resolved  to  adapt  his  own  prog 
ress  to  the  altered  circumstances  of  the  field.  He  did 
so,  and  took  an  advantageous  position  near  the  British 
Ifeft.  This  movement,  as  he  had  foreseen,  diverted  their 
attention  from  the  fire  of  the  American  army  to  his  own 
division.  A  most  furious  attack  followed,  but  was  en 
countered  by  a  cool  determination  which  showed  the 
value  of  the  winter  discipline  which  the  army  had  under 
gone  at  Valley  Forge.  The  artillery  of  Greene's  divis- 


THE    BRITISH    RETREAT.  7J 

ion  was  in  the  charge  of  General  Knox,  and,  well  posted 
upon  a  commanding  situation,  poured  in  a  most  destruc 
tive  fire  upon  the  assailants.  Seconded  by  the  infantry, 
who  steadily  held  their  ground,  and  gave  volley  upon  vol 
ley  from  their  small-arms,  with  equal  rapidity  of  fire  and 
excellence  of  aim,  the  advance  of  the  enemy  was  checked. 
Repeated  efforts  of  the  British  serve  only  to  renew  their 
disappointments  and  increase  their  losses.  Their  shat 
tered  battalions,  which  had  been  greatly  thinned  by  the 
murderous  volleys,  were  at  length  withdrawn  from  the 
field,  and  were  finally  driven  back,  under  the  united  ad 
vance  of  Greene's  and  Wayne's  infantry,  with  great 
loss,  to  the  position  which  they  first  occupied  when  Lee 
began  the  attack.  Reconnoitred  in  this  position,  with  all 
their  strength  concentrated  for  its  defence,  Washington 
perceived  the  fruitlessness  of  any  renewal  of  the  assault. 
The  American  army  retired  accordingly,  and  slept  upon 
their  arms  that  night,  Greene,  like  his  commander,  taking 
his  repose,  without  couch  or  pillow,  on  the  naked  ground, 
and  with  no  other  shelter  than  a  tree,  beneath  the  broad 
canopy  of  heaven.  Nor  was  this  shelter  sought,  or  this 
repose  found,  until  the  wounded  had  been  placed  in  due 
keeping,  and  every  soldier  who  had  fought  in  his  divis 
ion  had  been  solaced  with  the  best  food  that  the  camp 
supplied.  With  the  dawn  of  morning  the  enemy  was 
gone.  They  had  halted  only  long  enough  for  a  slight 
rest  and  refreshment,  and  then  silently  stole  away,  wu.t 
such  rapidity,  as,  when  their  retreat  was  made  known, 
put  them  beyond  the  chances  of  pursuit.  If  the  Ameri 
cans  did  not  win  a  victory  at  Monmouth,  they  acquired 
many  advantages  from  the  combat.  Their  conduct  be 
trayed  the  effects  of  discipline  and  service  —  showed 
large  improvements  in  both  respects,  and  led  to  larger 
hopes  and  expectations  from  their  continued  exercise 
Lee's  disobedience  of  orders,  assuming  a  discretion  which 


72  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

the  result  did  not  justify,  was  probably  the  true  reason  why 
a  complete  victory  had  not  been  obtained ;  yet,  if  Lee  lost 
the  victory  by  his  disobedience,  it  is  quite  as  certain  that 
Greene's  departure  from  orders,  insured  the  final  safety 
of  the  army,  after  the  first  disaster  had  endangered  it. 
His  quickness,  the  excellence  of  his  judgment  in  the 
choice  of  a  new  position  in  the  moment  of  exigency,  and 
the  firmness  with  which  he  maintained  it,  greatly  contrib 
uted  to  raise  his  reputation. 

The  cloud  of  war  continued  to  pass  to  the  northward. 
Clinton  reached  New  York  in  security,  while  Washing 
ton  inclined  to  the  left,  in  order  to  defend  the  Jerseys, 
and  secure  the  passes  of  the  Highlands.  The  American 
forces  were  now  in  a  condition  to  attempt  offensive  op 
erations.  Their  conduct  at  Monmouth  had  inspirited 
the  hopes  of  the  people,  and  the  arrival  of  a  French 
fleet,  under  D'Estaign,  which  was  decidedly  superior  to 
that  of  the  British,  encouraged  to  the  boldest  enterpri 
ses.  An  attack,  of  the  combined  troops  of  France  and 
America,  was  planned  against  the  British  forces  in  Rhode 
Island.  They  had  held  the  town  of  Newport,  since  the 
fall  of  1776,  and  Clinton,  on  his  retreat  from  Philadel 
phia,  had  increased  the  strength  of  his  arms  in  that  quar 
ter,  and  abundantly  supplied  them  with  all  the  munitions 
of  war.  To  be  in  train  for  making  an  attempt  on  this 
position,  Washington,  on  the  first  advices  of  a  French 
fleet  to  be  expected,  detached  Sullivan  to  Rhode  Island 
with  a  small  army  of  observation,  and  with  a  power  to 
make  requisitions  upon  the  neighboring  militia.  When 
the  French  fleet  did  arrive,  after  a  grievous  season  of 
delay,  Lafayette  was  sent,  with  a  reinforcement,  to  join 
Sullivan.  Greene  soon  followed,  and  from  him,  though 
serving  under  Sullivan,  the  largest  expectations  were 
farmed.  He,  himself,  was  anxious  for  service  in  his  na 
tive  state  ;  and  he  gladly  yielded  the  duties  of  the  quar- 


CONDUCT  OF  THE  FRENCH.  73 

termaster-general's  department,  for  those  of  more  conspic 
uous  performance  in  the  field.  His  arrival  was  welcomed 
with  delight,  volunteers  crowded  to  his  standard,  and  the 
utmost  confidence  of  the  result  prevailed  equally  among 
the  people  and  the  troops.  On  the  8th  of  August,  the 
French  fleet  entered  Narraganset  bay,  under  a  heavy 
fire  from  the  British  batteries,  which  they  quickly  passed. 
Preparations  for  the  attempt  on  Newport  were  then  be 
gun.  A  plan  of  attack  was  arranged  for  the  next  day, 
but  was  delayed  till  the  10th,  "in  consequence  of  the 
non-arrival  of  certain  troops  of  Massachusetts  and  New 
Hampshire."  Meanwhile,  Pigot,  who  commanded  the 
British,  became  alarmed  for  his  outer  line  and  withdrew 
the  troops  from  it  within  the  lines  by  which  the  town 
was  immediately  defended,  thus  abandoning  without  a 
blow,  at  least  two  thirds  of  the  island.  With  the  discov 
ery  of  this  proceeding,  Sullivan  instantly  crossed,  with 
his  whole  force,  to  the  island,  and  occupied  the  lines 
which  had  been  abandoned  by  the  enemy.  This  move 
ment  gave  serious  offence  to  Count  D'Estaign,  a  captain 
who  stood  very  much  on  etiquette.  The  next  day,  in 
stead  of  being  employed  in  action,  was  consumed  in  dis 
cussion  ;  and  while  D'Estaign  was  proving  himself  a 
very  prince  of  punctilio,  a  new  party  appeared  in  the 
field,  to  engage  in  the  dispute  after  another  fashion. 
This  was  Lord  Howe,  in  command  of  the  British 
fleet.  It  was  still  in  the  power  of  the  allied  forces  to 
have  captured  Newport.  The  fate  of  the  British  garri 
son  was  inevitable.  The  French  fleet  lay  in  a  position 
of  complete  security,  and  the  only  hcpe  of  the  wily 
British  admiral,  was  in  beguiling  his  conceited  adversary 
from  the  game  which  was  certain,  to  the  doubtful  issue 
of  a  sea-fight.  Melancholy  to  say,  he  was  successful  in 
his  object.  The  French  count,  who  had  been  captious 
in  asserting  his  supposed  authority  and  resenting  fan- 
4 


74  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

cied  slights  from  the  first  moment  that  he  showed  himself 
in  the  country,  held  it  a  point  of  honor  to  accept  the  chal 
lenge  of  the  British  fleet,  in  advance  of  all  other  consid 
erations.  He  was  thus  carried  out  to  sea,  several  days' 
&ail,.  manoeuvring  to  get  the  weather-gage,  and  finally 
losing  the  very  object  of  his  quest,  in  a  furious  gale, 
wh  .ch  separated  the  rival  fleets,  and  scattered  them  over 
the  ocean. 

Left  thus  to  their  own  resources,  the  situation  of  the 
Americans  became  embarrassing,  if  not  full  of  danger. 
There  were  but  eight  thousand  men  fit  for  duty,  and 
more  than  half  of  these  were  militia.  The  British  were 
nearly  the  same  number,  well  chosen,  under  excellent 
discipline,  and  protected  by  the  most  admirable  works 
of  art.  To  carry  the  place  by  storm  was  out  of  the 
question.  To  maintain  themselves  against  the  enemy, 
when  any  amount  of  reinforcements  could  be  brought  in 
twenty-four  hours  from  New  York,  was  not  possible ; 
yet,  to  abandon  an  enterprise  which  had  been  undertaken 
under  such  encouraging  auspices,  and  when  they  might 
hourly  look  for  the  reappearance  of  the  French  fleet,  was 
a  resolution  which  the  American  general  was  exceed 
ingly  loath  to  adopt.  Thus  undecided,  an  attempt  was 
made  to  operate  by  leaguer ;  but,  before  ground  could 
be  broken,  a  storm  of  the  greatest  violence  arose,  which, 
for  three  days,  raged  with  a  fury  such  as  marks  only  the 
terrible  hurricanes  of  the  lower  latitudes.  The  opera 
tions  of  the  army  were  suspended ;  their  tents,  tools,  and 
provisions,  destroyed ;  ammunition  and  arms  made  unfit 
for  service;  and  the  hearts  of  the  soldiery,  already 
daunted  by  the  disappearance  of  their  allies  upon  whom 
they  had  counted  so  confidently,  were  oppressed  by  the 
oost  gloomy  auguries.  Ten  days  of  painful  suspense 
followed,  in  which  the  Americans  lay  before  the  garrison 
of  the  enemy,  divided  between  hope  and  apprehension. 


CONDITION  OF  THE  FRENCH  FLEET.         75 

and  distressed  by  the  most  humiliating-  incertitude.  For 
tunately,  during  this  period,  though  Clinton  was  making 
his  preparations  for  the  relief  of  the  place,  no  enterprises 
were  attempted  by  the  British  which  could  increase  their 
perils.  At  length,  the  French  fleet  reappeared,  and 
bore  in  toward  the  land.  But  the  storm  had  made  itself 
felt  among  their  shattered  frigates.  Full  of  confidence, 
and  sanguine  now  of  success  from  the  co-operation  of 
their  allies,  the  Americans  prepared  to  prosecute  the 
assault  on  Newport.  But,  what  was  their  discomfiture 
when  apprized  by  D'Estaign  that  he  was  no  longer  in  a 
situation  to  afford  them  any  assistance.  He  was  com 
pelled  to  go  to  Boston  to  refit.  It  was  all-important  to 
the  American  general  to  effect  a  change  in  this  resolu 
tion.  Greene  and  Lafayette  were  accordingly  despatched 
to  the  fleet  to  confer  with  the  French  commander.  It 
was  in  vain  that  they  argued  and  entreated.  The  co 
operation  of  two  days  only  was  implored ;  and  Greene 
pledged  himself  that,  under  cover  of  the  guns  from  the 
shipping,  he  would  plant  himself  firmly  within  the  lines 
of  the  enemy.  But  the  French  count  was  inflexible. 
We  have  already  seen  that  he  had  his  weaknesses. 
The  miserable  regard  to  etiquette  which  had  prompted 
him  to  forego  the  game  within  his  grasp,  for  that  which 
might,  and  did,  elude  it,  was  in  proof,  to  a  certain  degree, 
of  his  incompetence  for  such  a  trust  as  that  which  had 
been  confided  to  him.  For  his  farther  conduct,  there  is 
some  excuse.  He  was  unpopular  with  his  officers  ;  and 
the  council  of  war,  which  had  been  called  to  decide 
upon  the  arguments  and  entreaties  of  the  American 
general,  sufficed  to  show  to  Greene  the  progress  of  such 
a  spirit  of  discontent  and  disaffection  on  ooard  the 
French  fleet,  as  might  well  render  its  admiral  reluctant 
to  engage  in  any  enterprises  of  great  responsibility.  It 
does  not  concern  us  to  inquire  the  causes  of  D'Estaign's 


70  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

unpopularity  with  his  officers.  Enough  that  it  served  to 
deprive  the  Americans  of  all  the  anticipated  succor  from 
their  allies 

Great  was  the  mortification  and  indignation  of  Greene, 
when  compelled  to  carry  back  to  the  camp  the  final 
refusal  of  the  French  admiral.  There,  it  produced  noth 
ing  but  dismay.  Another  effort  was  made  to  stay  the 
departure  of  the  fleet ;  or,  at  least,  to  secure  the  co-oper 
ation  of  the  land  forces.  But  it  proved  equally  ineffec 
tual  with  the  former.  D'Estaign  pursued  his  voyage  to 
Boston ;  and,  to  increase  the  fears  and  dangers  of  the 
Americans,  it  was  now  understood  that  Clinton  was  rap 
idly  approaching  from  New  York.  These  tidings  com 
pleted  their  panic  and  disappointment.  The  militia  could 
no  longer  be  detained.  That  very  night,  they  deserted 
in  such  numbers,  that,  with  the  morning,  Sullivan  found 
his  force  reduced  from  eight  to  five  thousand  men. 

The  situation  of  the  army  had  now  become  sufficiently 
perilous ;  and,  iri  silence  and  darkness,  on  the  night  of 
the  28th  of  August,  the  camp  was  broken  up  ;  the  whole 
American  force  retreating  to  the  shelter  of  a  couple  of 
redoubts,  which  had  been  raised  on  the  north  end  of  the 
island.  Their  departure  was  discovered  with  the  dawn, 
and  a  pursuit  was  instantly  commenced  by  the  British  in 
two  strong  columns.  Greene,  with  the  gallant  regiments 
of  Colonels  Livingston  and  Laurens,  covered  the  retreat 
ing  movement ;  and,  under  their  ste.ady  valor  and  admi 
rable  order,  the  whole  army  reached  its  point  of  desti 
nation,  and  was  at  once  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle. 
They  had  scarcely  put  themselves  in  trim  for  fighting, 
when  a  brisk  fire  from  the  enemy  announced  their  close 
approach.  Under  the  belief  that  they  had  pressed  forward 
in  detached  bodies,  which  might  be  cut  off  separately, 
Greene  was  for  marching  out  to  meet  them  promptly,  and 
before  the  several  divisions  could  arrive  to  the  support 


AFFAIR   AT    NEWPORT.  77 

of  each  other ;  but  this  counsel  was  rejected  as  too  full 
of  peril.  The  troops  were  held  on  the  defensive,  only. 
Greene  commanded  on  the  right,  and,  from  a  redoubt  in 
his  front,  a  cannonading  was  maintained  throughout  the 
day  upon  the  enemy.  This  was  warmly  answered  from 
an  opposite  hill,  of  which  the  British  had  possession. 
At  two  in  the  afternoon,  they  made  an  attempt  to  turn 
the  American  right,  and  concentrated  on  this  point  all 
the  effective  force  which  could  be  brought  to  operate. 
Reinforcements  were  soon  ordered  to  this  point,  and  the 
engagement  that  followed  was  equally  prolonged  and 
desperate.  Here,  Greene  was  in  immediate  command. 
His  force  was  doubled  by  that  of  the  assailants,  but  his 
troops  were  among  the  best  in  the  army,  and  now  amply 
declared,  by  their  cool  and  steady  valor,  the  admirable 
training  which  they  had  received  at  Valley  Forge.  He 
was  not  less  fortunate  in  his  officers.  They  sustained 
the  unequal  conflict  with  a  spirit  worthy  of  the  most 
stubborn  veterans;  and  the  enemy  was  finally  repulsed 
with  great  slaughter — repulsed,  rather  than  defeated. 
The  British  were  picked  soldiers,  also  ;  and  they  retired, 
in  good  order,  to  the  hill  from  which  they  had  descended 
to  the  attack.  The  engagement  was  a  partial  one.  It 
relieved  the  Americans  from  present  pressure,  but  did 
not  extricate  them  from  their  difficulties.  Though  not 
conclusive,  it  did  honor  to  the  American  arms,  and  was 
particularly  gratifying,  in  its  results,  to  Greene,  who  was 
fighting  in  sight  of  his  birthplace.  Hundreds  of  the 
militia,  who  emptied  their  guns  from  walls  and  fences, 
were  nerved  to  the  most  desperate  exertions,  as  they  felt 
that  they  fought  beneath  the  eye  of  one  of  their  own 
kindred.  Greene,  himself,  felt  how  many  eyes  of  kin 
dred —  how  many  dear  friends  and  old  associates  —  were 
watching  anxiously  the  behavior  of  their  former  com 
rade.  There  was  one,  dearer  than  all  in  his  sight,  who, 


78  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

sitting  by  their  own  lonely  hearthstone,  could  hear  the 
deep  and  hollow  reverberation  of  every  shot,  in  the  long 
and  heavy  cannonade  that  day.  The  battle  was  resumed, 
at  long  shot,  with  the  next.  But,  "  though  most  vigor 
ously  pursued  and  repeatedly  attacked,"  was  the  language 
of  the  very  enemies  of  Greene,  "  yet,  in  every  quarter 
where  an  opening  was  made,  he  took  his  measures  so 
well,  and  had  chosen  his  posts  so  judiciously,  that, 
although  much  honor  was  claimed  and  deserved  on  both 
sides,  he  gained  the  north  end  of  the  island  without  sus 
taining  any  considerable  loss."  He  barely  saved  his 
distance  in  doing  so.  Another  day,  and  the  Americans 
would  have  been  totally  cut  off  by  the  overwhelming 
force,  with  which,  the  very  night  of  his  departure,  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  appeared  on  the  ground.  He  found  the 
nest  still  warm.  The  Americans  had  crossed  to  the 
main  in  security;  and  their  assailants,  warned  by  the 
sharpness  and  loss  of  the  previous  encounter,  were  not 
sufficiently  desperate  to  pursue  them. 


DEFENCE    OP    SULLIVAN. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Greene  defends  Sullivan  for  the  Affair  in  Rhode  Island. — Difficulties  with 
Congress  in  regard  to  the  Duties  of  Quartermaster- General. — Anecdote 
of  his  Brother. — Resigns  from  his  Office,  and  offends  Congress. — De 
bates  in  that  Body. — Greene  commands  at  the  Battle  of  Springfield. 

THE  failure  of  this  expedition,  on  the  part  of  the  Amer 
icans,  from  whom  so  much  had  been  expected,  occasioned 
deep  mortification,  and  a  wide  excitement.  Blame  fell 
heavily  upon  the  officers  in  command  of  the  expedition,  and 
Greene  naturally  came  in  for  his  share  of  the  reproach. 
A  visit  to  the  abode  of  his  father,  which  he  took  occasion 
to  make  about  this  time,  was  chiefly  employed  in  prepar 
ing  an  elaborate  exposition  of  the  true  causes  of  the 
failure  of  the  enterprise,  in  an  energetic  defence  of  Sul 
livan.  This  paper  appears  in  the  form  of  a  letter,  in 
which  a  frank  and  generous  ardor  speaks  unreservedly 
the  opinions  of  a  mind  secure  in  its  position,  and  gov 
erned  by  the  most  uncalculating  rectitude.  His  visit  to  his 
birthplace  was  thus  employed  in  a  manner  which  was  quite 
inconsistent  with  the  opportunity  afforded  him  and  the 
objects  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  In  the  homestead 
of  his  youth,  with  the  old  familiar  faces  in  his  sight,  one 
would  naturally  seek  escape  from  the  thoughts  of  strife 
and  the  recollections  of  war.  Greene  had  now  been 
more  than  three  years  away  from  his  home.  He  had  only 
once  passed  through  it,  in  all  this  time,  while  hurrying 
from  the  siege  of  Boston  to  the  defence  of  Long  Island. 
During  this  period,  change  had  necessarily  been  at  work. 
The  administration  of  his  affairs  had  been  confided  to 


0  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Others.  The  family  estate  had  been  divided,  he  simply 
assenting  to  all  that  had  been  done,  and  taking  and  re 
ceiving,  without  inquiry,  the  portion  which  had  been 
allotted  him.  A  few  days  only  were  stolen  for  his  delay 
at  Coventry,  when  he  hurried  on  to  Boston,  where  he 
was  called  by  his  duties  as  quartermaster-general.  Here 
he  strove,  and  not  unsuccessfully,  to  conciliate  Count 
D'Estaign,  whom  his  former  deportment  had  greatly 
prepossessed  in  his  favor.  This  labor  of  love  w^as  equally 
politic  and  amiable.  It  was  one  evil  result  of  the  failure 
of  the  expedition  against  Newport,  that  it  prompted  the 
American  officers  to  such  an  expression  of  their  indig 
nation,  at  the  conduct  of  the  French,  as  must  have 
greatly  vexed  the  self-esteem  and  increased  the  soreness 
of  the  latter.  Sullivan,  himself,  had  expressed  himself 
in  language  of  a  character  which  was  likely  to  be  greatly 
©ffensive  to  the  government  of  France.  To  soften  the 
offence,  and  mollify  the  feelings  which  it  might  produce, 
was  equally  the  care  of  Washington  and  Greene.  An 
opportunity  occurred  to  the  latter,  in  which  his  prompt 
decision  was  of  the  last  importance  in  preventing  new 
cause  of  provocation.  It  was  desirable  that  Congress 
should  be  put  in  possession  of  all  the  facts  relating  to 
the  expedition  against  Newport,  through  some  confiden 
tial  agent,  having  authority  to  speak,  and  without  resort 
ing  to  any  means,  such  as  a  court  of  inquiry,  which  would 
give  publicity  to  the  particulars  obtained.  Greene  was 
sent  by  Washington  for  the  purpose  of  making  these 
revelations.  He  repaired  to  Philadelphia,  and,  by  a 
unanimous  vote  of  Congress,  was  invited  to  a  seat  on  the 
floor,  and  shown  to  a  chair  beside  the  president.  Henry 
Laurens  at  this  time  occupied  the  chair;  and,  but  a  few 
moments  had  elapsed,  after  Greene  had  taken  his  seat, 
when  a  communication  from  the  governor  of  Rhode 
Island  was  announced,  and  an  order  passed  that  it  should 


TACT    OF    GREENE     IN    CONGRESS.  81 

be  read.  Conceiving,  instantly,  the  character  of  the  docu> 
ment,  and  that  it  embodied  the  same  feeling  and  senti 
ments  with  those  of  Sullivan  and  others,  which  had  al 
ready  given  so  much  offence,  Greene  seized  the  moment, 
while  the  clerk  was  unsealing  the  envelope,  to  convey  to 
She  president  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  he  had  written, 
'  For  God's  sake,  do  not  let  that  paper  be  read  until  you 
have  looked  it  over."  His  suspicion  was  instantly  adopt 
ed  by  the  president,  who,  in  a  whisper,  arrested  the 
progress  of  the  clerk.  A  call  for  the  order  of  the  day, 
judiciously  interposed  at  this  moment,  diverted  attention 
from  the  governor's  despatch,  which,  in  fact,  embodied 
a  remonstrance  against  the  conduct  of  D'  Estaign,  such 
as  could  not  but  have  painfully  outraged  the  French 
minister,  who,  with  his  suite,  D'Estaign  himself,  and  other 
distinguished  persons  of  his  nation,  was,  at  that  very  mo 
ment,  in  the  gallery.  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  might 
have  been  the  degree  of  mischief  done,  had  not  the  happy 
tact  of  the  Rhode  Island  blacksmith  interposed  for  its 
prevention.  Greene,  in  fact,  was  quite  as  much  a  politi 
cian  as  a  general. 

The  year  1778  terminated  without  affording  any  op 
portunity  of  distinction  to  our  subject,  except  in  his  capa 
city  of  quartermaster- general.  With  the  departure  of  Sul 
livan  from  Rhode  Island,  the  British  army  under  Clinton  re 
turned  to  New  York.  Their  enterprises  were  no  longer  of 
a  character  to  merit  the  attention  of  the  historian.  They 
degenerated  into  predatory  expeditions  only,  in  which 
recklessness  rather  than  courage,  crime  rather  than  com 
bat,  were  the  distinguishing  features.  The  details  of  this 
career,  as  it  nowhere  involves  the  progress  of  Greene,  will 
not  require  more  of  our  notice.  The  campaign  of  1779 
opened  with  characteristics  not  much  more  reputable.  In 
deed,  all  thmgs  tended  to  show  that  the  British  army,  hope 
less  of  making  any  decided  impression  in  a  region  whers 
4* 


82  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

ine  nature  of  the  climate  and  the  characteristics  of  the 
country  offered  few  opportunities  of  successful  enterprise, 
and  where  the  absence  of  available  wealth  among  the  peo 
ple,  held  forth  as  few  inducements  to  it,  had  really  relin 
quished  all  hopes  of  effecting  a  conquest  of  the  states  north 
of  the  Chesapeake.  Their  eyes  were  now  naturally  turned 
upon  the  southern  states,  where  a  more  scattered  popu 
lation,  and,  in  some  places,  greater  opulence,  promised  a 
more  easy  progress  and  more  abundant  spoils.  The  north 
ern  armies,  on  both  sides,  were  now  chiefly  employed  in 
watching  each  other,  seizing  upon  small  lapses  of  conduct, 
and  engaging  in  enterprises,  which  afforded  employment 
rather  than  results.  The  British  government,  during 
this  campaign,  appeared  scarcely  sensible  of  the  neces 
sity  of  making  adequate  efforts  to  reduce  the  colonies, 
strengthened  as  they  were  by  foreign  alliance ;  and  was, 
in  fact,  too  busily  employed  upon  the  ocean  and  abroad, 
to  concentrate  her  resources  upon  this  object.  The 
Americans,  on  the  other  hand,  were,  in  a  large  degree, 
enfeebled  by  this  very  alliance,  and  attached  so  much 
importance  to  what  was  to  be  done  for  them  by  France, 
that,  in  the  northern  states,  at  least,  they  were  scarcely 
disposed  to  do  anything  for  themselves.  New  England, 
in  particular,  from  the  moment  of  the  withdrawal  of  the 
enemy  from  her  own  coasts  and  cities,  and  the  appear 
ance  of  the  foreign  auxiliaries  in  the  country,  regarded 
the  contest  with  an  apathy  and  indifference  strangely  in 
conflict  with  her  previous  activity  and  warmth. 

To  a  certain  extent,  as  a  natural  consequence  of  the 
inactivity  of  the  British,  this  apathy  prevailed  in  all  the 
colonies.  It  did  not,  however,  prevent  the  growth  of 
Jealousies  and  dissensions,  such  as  ordinarily  flow  from 
the  selfish  hopes  of  partisans,  and  the  diseased  ambition 
of  distinguished  men.  Assuming  the  war  as  really  at  an 
end,  —  calculating  largely  upon  the  simple  effect  of  the 


DISSENSIONS    IN    CONGRESS.  83 

alliance  with  France  as  conclusive  to  this  effect, — not 
regarding  how  much  more  naturally  such  an  alliance 
would  provoke  the  worst  passions  of  the  British,  rather 
than  their  fears,  and  bring  down  upon  the  colonies  the 
whole  volume  of  that  long-nursed  national  prejudice  and 
hostility  which  had  been  engendered  between  the  two 
great  nations  by  the  protracted  strifes  of  centuries,  the 
Americans  yielded  themselves  up  to  those  domestic  strug 
gles  for  power  and  place,  which,  but  for  their  premature 
assumption  of  safety,  would  never,  perhaps,  have  been 
allowed  to  discredit  their  honorable  achievements.  Con 
gress  was  the  theatre  for  these  dissensions.  It  was  rap 
idly  growing  into  disrepute  among  the  people.  The 
states  had  their  own  discontents  and  strifes,  and  no  longer 
felt  disposed  to  comply  with  the  federal  requisitions. 
The  army,  badly  clothed  and  fed,  and  impatient  of  the  neg 
lect  which  answered  its  complaints  and  expostulations  — 
worn  out  with  the  drudgery  of  the  war,  without  being 
enlivened  with  the  excitements  of  battle  —  was  daily 
sinking  in  repute  and  lessening  in  numbers.  The  system 
by  which  it  was  to  be  sustained,  that  of  depending  upon 
the  states  for  the  maintenance  of  quotas,  instead  of  re 
sorting  to  regular  enlistments,  was  one  of  fatal  errors, 
against  which  the  intelligent  officers  of  the  army  were 
remonstrating  always,  and  constantly  in  vain.  Public 
credit,  a  subject  equally  important,  needing  even  more 
fostering,  was  rapidly  undergoing  destruction  in  the 
equally  unwise  system  of  resorting  to  expedients,  instead 
of,  at  once,  honestly  and  frankly  declaring  a  necessity, 
and  boldly  advancing  to  contend  with  it.  In  this  con 
dition  of  things,  nothing  was  done  toward  the  promotion 
of  the  cause  of  independence ;  nothing,  certainly,  was 
gained  for  its  popularity;  and,  in  all  probability,  a  great 
deal  already  gained  was  forfeited.  The  year  1779  was 
marked  by  nothing  in  the  councils  of  the  nation,  and  ai 


84  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    6REENE. 

little  in  the  business  of  the  field,  which  could  confei 
credit  upon  the  revolution,  or  render  its  progress  per 
manent.  No  general  action  occurred  to  call  Greene  away 
from  the  bureau  of  the  quartermaster-general,  in  which, 
by  the  way,  he  endured  as  much  toil,  and  enjoyed  as  few 
consolations,  as  could  have  been  found  under  any  for 
tunes,  directly  in  the  pathway  of  a  powerful  enemy. 

The  ambitious  strifes  and  dissensions  in  Congress  did 
not,  of  course,  suffer  him,  or  his  administration  of  affairs, 
to  escape  severe  and  unfriendly  comment.  If  the  mem 
bers  of  that  great  national  council  could  not  perform 
themselves,  they  had  sufficient  leisure  for  prompt  judg 
ment  on  the  performances  of  others.  The  departments 
of  the  quartermaster  and  commissary  were  subjects  of 
particular  inquiry,  and  the  most  unfounded  complaints 
were  put  in  circulation  against  the  mode  in  which  their 
duties  were  administered.  There  is  a  vicious  appetite 
in  man,  that  makes  it  rather  grateful  to  him  to  listen  to 
the  story  of  his  neighbor's  shame ;  and  the  ear  which 
hearkens  only  to  a  conjecture  and  a  suspicion  of  miscon 
duct,  is  very  apt,  in  the  next  moment,  to  find  for  it  a 
tongue  of  evil,  which  soon  converts  it  to  a  tale  of  crime. 
Greene  suffered  from  these  suspicions.  Secure  in  the 
favorable  opinion  of  Washington,  and  in  the  approving 
voice  of  his  own  conscience,  though  stung  and  mortified 
to  the  quick  by  indirect  imputations  which  he  could  not 
condescend  to  combat,  he  was  only  persuaded  to  retain 
his  office  in  consideration  of  the  difficulties  by  which  it 
was  environed,  and  of  the  vital  importance,  to  the  cause, 
of  its  energetic  administration.  But  rumors,  equally  of 
his  incompetence,  and  against  his  honesty,  continued  to 
circulate.  They,  at  length,  reached  the  ears  of  his  kin 
dred,  and  occasioned  an  interesting  and  touching  incident, 
which  reflects  honorably  on  the  character  of  that  train 
ing  by  which  the  venerable  old  quaker,  his  sire,  had 


GREENE  AND  HIS  BROTHER.  85 

striven  to  inform  the  sensibilities  of  his  children,  with  an 
appetite  as  eager  for  virtuous  name,  as  for  popular 
renown.  The  report  which  disparaged  the  honest  fame 
of  our  subject,  at  length,  reached  one  of  his  brothers  in 
Rhode  Island.  Greene's  quarters,  at  this  time,  were 
near  Morristown.  The  parties  were  separated  by  a 
space  of  nearly  two  hundred  miles ;  yet,  the  moment 
thatr  the  brother  heard  the  humiliating  story,  he  took 
horse  and  hurried  to  the  army.  Greene's  cordial  recep 
tion  of  his  guest  met  with  no  answeiing  sympathy.  The 
brother,  before  he  opened  his  heart  to  the  embrace 
which  it  yet  solicited,  was  first  to  learn  that  he  dealt  with 
an  honest  man.  He  demanded  a  private  interview,  which 
was  at  once  vouchsafed  him.  "  I  am  come,  brother,"  he 
said,  in  a  voice  nearly  choked  by  emotion,  "  to  inform 
you  that  you  are  charged  with  improper  conduct  in  your 
office.  Are  you  innocent  V  With  an  affectionate  smile, 
a  calm  voice,  clear  countenance,  and  a  hand  pressed 
upon  his  heart,  Greene  answered,  instantly,  "I  am!" 
The  assurance  was  satisfactory.  The  brother  knew, 
from  the  experience  of  long  and  trusting  years,  what 
degree  of  confidence  could  be  yielded  to  such  an  assu 
rance.  It  was  then  that  he  embraced  him,  and,  happy 
and  relieved,  he  departed  as  suddenly  as  he  came.  He 
had  but  one  object  in  the  interview,  and,  the  single  inter 
rogation  answered,  he  had  no  other  motive  for  delay. 

But  the  communication  sunk  deeply  into  the  heart  of 
Greene.  He  had  met  the  inquiry  of  his  brother  with  a 
smile.  With  clear  and  unembarrassed  brow  and  eye, 
he  had  answered  the  painful  question ;  but  he  did  not 
the  less  suffer  from  the  cruel  wound  which  it  inflicted, 
and  he  resolved,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  break  away  from 
the  shackles  of  an  office,  equally  responsible  and  burden 
some,  in  which  he  had  toiled  without  regard  to  selfish 
considerations  —  in  spite  of  them  indeed  —  and  had 


86  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

reaped  reproach  and  suspicions,  instead  of  gratitude 
Fortunately  for  the  fame  of  Greene,  calumny  itself,  with 
all  its  agents,  was  not  able  to  oppose  the  unquestionable 
evidence  which  his  friends  could  produce,  in  favor  of  the 
administration  of  his  department,  and  in  proof  of  his 
own  integrity.  Congress,  after  an  inquiry,  passed  a  reso 
lution,  declaring  its  confidence  in  his  ability  and  integ 
rity.  Greene  was  sufficiently  soothed  by  this  resolution 
to  listen  to  the  entreaties  of  the  commander-in-chief,  and 
of  the  army,  that  he  would  not  relinquish  the  department 
he  had  so  ably  managed.  But  calumny  was  not  so  easily 
silenced :  the  creature  was  very  soon,  again,  at  her  dirty 
work.  A  remnant  of  the  old  faction  of  Con  way,  no 
longer  able  to  hurt  "Washington,  were  always  eager  to 
wreak  their  malice  upon  Greene.  To  such  a  degree  did 
they  carry  this  malice,  that  it  was  even  designed,  if  pos 
sible,  to  deprive  him  of  his  command  in  the  line.  But 
their  most  obvious  game  was  to  impeach  his  integrity. 
He  was  supposed,  or  asserted,  to  have  made  a  fortune 
by  his  office  ;  while,  in  truth,  he  was  about  to  retire  from 
it  something  poorer  than  when  he  entered  it.  It  had 
been  to  him,  indeed,  like  that  supper  of  the  Barmecides, 
in  the  Arabian  tale,  in  which,  without  a  single  dish  be 
fore  him,  he  was  required  to  fancy  that  he  enjoyed  the 
most  delicious  variety.  A  resolution  from  the  treasury 
board  required  a  statement  of  his  accounts.  For  this 
performance,  but  twenty-seven  days  were  allowed  him. 
He  expostulated  against  the  unreasonable  and  oppres 
sive  requisition,  demonstrating  the  moral  and  physical 
impossibility  of  traversing  such  a  wide  and  various  field 
of  investigation  in  such  a  space  of  time.  An  additional 
month  was  grudgingly  allowed  him,  while  a  committee 
was  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  condition  of  his  de 
partment .  The  investigation  resulted  in  his  triumph. 
The  members  of  this  committee,  to  borrow  the  language 


GREENE'S  TROUBLES  IN  OFFICE.  87 

of  one  of  them,  "  entered  upon  the  investigation  with 
the  strongest  prejudices,  and  closed  it  with  a  unanimous 
conviction  of  his  ability,  fidelity,  and  zeal."  Here,  then, 
was  a  favorable  opportunity  for  Greene  to  withdraw 
from  the  ungracious  service  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
and  resume  his  station  in  the  line,  which  he  had  always 
greatly  preferred ;  but  Washington  was  unwilling  to 
lose  him,  in  a  capacity  in  which  he  could  render  services 
of  so  much  importance  ;  and  a  scheme  for  the  regulation 
of  the  department  was  drawn  up  by  the  commander-in 
chief,  in  conjunction  with  a  committee  of  Congress, 
which  Greene  entirely  approved  of,  and  which  he  pro 
fessed  himself  willing  to  administer,  without  other  pay 
than  that  which  accrued  to  him  from  his  commission  as 
major-general.  But  Congress,  with  its  numerous  amend 
ments,  so  mutilated  the  plan  submitted  by  Washington 
through  its  own  committee,  as  to  depart  from  all  its  most 
essential  particulars.  Under  these  circumstances,  Greene 
no  longer  hesitated  to  make  his  escape  from  an  office,  in 
which  he  had  neither  enjoyed  repose,  nor  realized  profit. 
There  was  no  sufficient  motive  to  remain  in  a  depart 
ment  which  subjected  him  to  equal  annoyance  and  mor 
tification.  His  preference  was  wholly  given  to  active 
duties  in  the  line  ;  and  indeed,  as  we  remember,  he  had 
stipulated  for  the  privilege  of  resuming  his  military  rank 
and  duties  whenever. a  general  engagement  was  antici 
pated.  Thus  feeling  and  desiring,  it  was  with  a  senti 
ment  of  relief  and  pride  that  he  covered  his  resignation 
to  Congress,  of  the  office  of  quartermaster-general,  re 
questing  that  body  to  appoint  his  successor  without  loss 
of  time.  He  declared  his  own  resolution  no  longer  to 
officiate  in  the  office,  except  so  far  as  was  necessary  to 
close  up  his  accounts,  and  to  set  fairly  in  operation  the 
new  system,  as  adopted,  for  the  future  government  of 
the  department. 


OO  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

This  letter,  so  proud  in  tone  and  so  peremptory  in 
requisition,  gave  great  offence  to  Congress,  and  was 
instantly  seized  upon,  as  so  much  capital  for  hostile 
declamation,  on  the  part  of  his  own  and  the  enemies  of 
Washington.  One  member  immediately  rose,  and  pro 
posed  that  he  be  dismissed  from  the  service  altogether. 
He  had  warm  and  powerful  friends  in  the  house,  who 
combated  this  attack.  A  keen  and  exciting  discussion 
followed,  which  ended  in  referring  the  letter  of  Greene 
to  a  committee.  The  report  of  this  committee  embodied 
the  hostile  sentiment,  and  concluded  with  a  resolve,  that 
"  the  resignation  of  Nathanael  Greene  be  accepted,  and 
that  he  be  informed  that  Congress  have  no  farther  use 
for  his  services."  This  repent  proves  something  more 
than  hostility  to  Greene.  It  proves  that  the  party  against 
Washington  was  in  the  ascendency  in  Congress.  But 
neither  his  nor  Greene's  friends,  in  that  body,  were  pre 
pared  to  suffer  the  question  to  go  by  default.  For  ten 
days,  the  report  was  under  consideration ;  and,  during 
the  greater  part  of  this  time,  was  the  subject  of  fierce 
discussion.  Still,  Congress  was  exacting,  and  the  sup 
posed  offender  incorrigibly  firm.  He  better  knew  his 
grounds  of  security  than  did  his  enemies.  The  discus 
sion  was  not  confined  to  Congress.  The  people  and  the 
army  partook  of  the  excitement,  and  Greene  felt  sure 
of  a  verdict  of  acquittal  and  approval  at  their  hands,  if 
he  might  look  in  no  higher  quarter.  His  cause,  indeed, 
was  that  of  the  army.  They  needed  no  arguments,  in 
his  behalf,  more  satisfactory  than  their  better  care  and 
provision,  their  increased  comforts  and  resources,  during 
his  administration,  than  they  had  ever  enjoyed  when 
Mifflin,  the  leader,  in  Congress,  of  the  opposition  against 
him,  had  occupied  the  very  office  in  which  Greene  had 
superseded  him.  But  the  excitement  gradually  subsided. 
Warned  by  the  threaten]' eg  aspect  of  the  army,  exhorted 


GREENE    RESIGNS    AS    QUARTERMASTER.  89 

by  the  letters  of  Washington  himself,  and  recovering,  by 
delay,  a  better  tone  and  temper  than  had  lately  impressed 
their  deliberations,  Congress  gradually  cooled  off;  and, 
when  the  vote  was  finally  taken,  his  resignation  as  quar 
termaster-general  was  accepted,  as  tendered,  without 
any  farther  allusions  to  his  commission  in  the  line. 

In  the  former  capacity,  Greene  was  succeeded  by 
Colonel  Pickering ;  but  for  two  months  he  still  continued 
to  execute  the  duties  of  the  office,  and  prepare  it  for  his 
successor.  He  had  borne  the  heavy  burthen  for  nearly 
three  years,  and  had  placed  the  department  in  very  good 
condition,  .all  circumstances  considered.  His  successor, 
though  of  unquestionable  ability  and  integrity,  was  not 
so  fortunate.  The  department  suffered  in  his  hands  ;  and 
six  months'  experiments  were  sufficient  to  satisfy  the 
worst  enemies  of  Greene,  as  well  as  his  best  friends,  how 
much  injury  had  been  done  to  the  country  by  the  cap 
tious  and  cruel  interference  which  had  driven  him  from 
duties  he  was  so  peculiarly  calculated  to  fulfil. 

The  hostility  against  our  subject  began  to  subside  the 
moment  he  was  relieved  from  the  office  which  he  had 
only  continued  to  hold  by  the  persuasions  of  others,  and 
against  his  own  desires.  He  gladly  resumed  his  duties 
in  the  line.  We  have  noted  his  military  career  to  the 
close  of  the  campaign  in  Rhode  Island.  A  brief  sum 
mary  of  events,  in  the  history  of  the  war,  is  perhaps  ne 
cessary  for  the  purpose  of  preserving  the  continuity  of 
our  narrative.  Withdrawing  his  troops  from  Rhode 
Island,  somewhere  in  the  autumn  of  1779,  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  proceeded,  with  all  despatch,  to  New  York, 
where  he  apprehended  the  arrival  of  D'Estaign,  with  his 
fleet  cnce  more  refitted,  and  prepared  for  some  leading 
enterprise.  The  French  commander  was  now  operating 
with  Lincoln  against  Savannah,  which  was  in  possession  of 
the  British.  With  the  fall  of  Savannah,  which  was  cnnfi 


90  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

dently  anticipated,  D'Estaign  was  to  unite  with  the  com* 
mander-in-chief  in  an  attempt  upon  New  York.  But 
Savannah  did  not  fall.  Admirably  defended  by  the  Brit 
ish,  the  united  forces  of  the  French  and  Americans  re 
coiled,  with  terrible  loss,  from  its  batteries,  which  the 
injudicious  indulgence  and  overweening  confidence  of 
D'Estaign,  in  his  own  strength,  had  given  the  enemy 
sufficient  time  to  perfect.  This  defeat  was  one  of  the 
disasters  which  contributed  to  the  final  conquest  of  South 
Carolina,  the  troops  of  which  state  suffered  severely  at 
Savannah.  Disgraced  and  mortified,  D'Estaign,  instead 
of  moving  upon  New  York,  sailed  for  the  W'est  Indies, 
while  the  arrival  of  a  strong  British  fleet  under  Arbuth- 
not,  enabled  Clinton  to  operate  offensively,  and  to  con 
centrate  all  his  energies  for  the  prosecution  of  a  design, 
long  entertained,  and  twice  already  defeated,  upon 
Charleston  and  the  southern  states.  It  was  in  Decem 
ber,  1779,  that  the  British  general  sailed  from  New  York; 
with  the  best  part  of  his  army,  on  his  expedition  against 
Charleston,  leaving  behind  him  a  force  under  Generals 
Knyphausen  and  Patterson,  which  was  deemed  quite 
equal  to  the  duty  of  keeping  at  bay  the  skeleton  regi 
ments  under  Washington.  Had  the  New  England 
troops  been  only  half  as  numerous  in  the  field  as  they 
have  ever  been  on  paper,  New  York  must  have  fallen  ; 
but  the  American  army  under  the  commander-in-chief, 
was  really  less  in  numbers  than  the  garrison  in  that  city. 
It  will  not  concern  us  to  pursue  the  career  of  Clinton  in 
the  south.  Suffice  it,  that  Charleston  was  taken,  and  the 
British  general  returned  to  New  York  on  the  17th  of 
June,  1780.  During  his  absence,  his  substitutes  were 
busy  in  enterprises  rather  petty  —  and  perhaps  profita 
ble —  than  brilliant ;  acquiring  reputation  as  successful 
marauders,  rather  than  daring  conquerers.  With  the 
return  of  Clinton,  preparations  were  made  for  something 


BRITISH    THREATEN    SPRINGFIELD.  91 

more  serious  on  the  part  of  the  British ;  and  the  Ameri 
can  general  was  kept  on  the  qui  vive,  uncertain  where  to 
look  for  the  approaching  danger.  Anxious  for  the  safety 
of  his  garrison  on  the  North  river,  Washington  left 
Greene,  with  two  brigades  of  continentals  and  the  Jer 
sey  militia,  at  Springfield,  in  New  Jersey;  while  he, 
himself,  moving  slowly  but  steadily  for  the  north,  pre 
pared  to  take  command  at  West  Point.  The  move 
ments  of  the  British  general  seemed  to  menace  this  re 
gion.  His  complete  command  of  the  New  York  waters, 
naturally  indicated  West  Point  as  accessible  to  enter 
prise  ;  and  this  citadel  of  the  nation,  which  held  its  armo 
ries  and  magazines,  and  constituted  the  key  to  a  wide 
and  important  interior,  compelled  Washington  to  antici 
pate  every  danger  by  which  it  might  be  threatened,  and 
to  make  its  safety  conspicuous  in  his  regards  over  almost 
every  other  consideration.  But  he  had  not  proceeded  a 
dozen  miles  from  Morristown,  on  his  march  for  the  north, 
when,  on  the  23d  of  June,  the  heads  of  the  British  columns 
were  advanced  from  Elizabethtown  in  the  direction  of 
Springfield.  It  was  here  that  a  considerable  supply  of  mil 
itary  stores  and  munitions  of  war  had  been  deposited  ;  and 
the  force  of  the  British,  now  moving  on  this  quarter,  con 
sisting  of  five  thousand  men,  a  large  body  of  cavalry,  and 
fifteen  or  twenty  pieces  of  artillery,  commanded  by  Clin 
ton  in  person,  was  quite  too  large  to  leave  it  doubtful 
that  his  demonstration  was  a  serious  one.  Washington 
was  soon  advised,  by  express  from  Greene,  of  the  threat 
ened  danger  to  his  post,  while  the  latter  prepared  with 
all  his  energies  to  meet  the  emergency.  This  was  the 
first  occasion  in  which  he  was  in  possession  of  an  inde 
pendent  command ;  and  he  soon  satisfied  all  parties  of 
his  admirable  capacity  to  enjoy  it.  No  movement  of  the 
enemy  had  been  taken  without  his  knowledge,  and  with 
the  first  show  of  danger,  the  commander-in-chief  was 


92  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

apprized  of  its  approach.  To  do  much  with  small  means 
is  one  of  the  highest  proofs  of  excellence  in  any  sort  of 
performance.  It  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  admirable 
tests  of  a  genius  for  the  military.  Greene's  force  was  an 
humble  one,  and  it  was  employed  in  detail  to  guard  nu 
merous  passes.  To  draw  together  his  detached  bodies, 
was  the  first  necessity,  and  to  economize  time  in  doing 
so,  was  a  part  of  this  necessity.  To  hasten  the  remote 
detachments  to  a  point  of  rendezvous,  and  to  order  the 
several  bodies,  more  within  his  control,  to  advance  and 
retard  the  progress  of  the  enemy,  were  simultaneous, 
*and  the  work  of  an  instant. 

About  eight  miles  from  Elizabeth  point  the  village  of 
Springfield  lies,  upon  the  western  bank  of  the  Rahway, 
a  little  stream  formed  by  the  confluence  of  two  other 
and  smaller  streams.  A  range  of  hills  formed  the  back 
ground,  and  was  the  position,  naturally  a  strong  one, 
which  the  American  army  occupied.  The  village  was 
accessible  by  two  roads  from  Elizabethtown,  one  run 
ning  through  Springfield,  the  other  north  of  it.  The 
usual  facilities  for  crossing  the  Rahway  and  its  branches, 
by  fords  and  bridges,  were  present,  and  rendered  the 
stream  itself  no  sort  of  obstacle  to  an  enemy's  approach. 
To  guard  these  bridges,  three  in  number,  and  to  cover  the 
two  great  routes  which  led  to  them,  were  the  only  means 
of  protecting  the  village  ;  but  this  required  such  an  ex 
tensive  front  as  was  scarcely  within  the  compass  of 
Greene's  numbers  to  exhibit.  His  proper  policy,  there 
fore,  was  to  push  forward  select  bodies  to  check  the  ad 
vance  of  the  British  columns  separately,  as  they  approach 
ed  on  the  different  roads,  while,  from  his  position  on  the 
heights,  he  could  extend  succor  to  either  of  these  bodies, 
as  they  separately  seemed  to  require  it.  Colonel  Dayton 
was  advanced,  accordingly,  to  skirmish  with  the  left  col 
umn  of  the  enemy,  while  Major  Lee,  afterward  famous 


SKIRMISHES    ON    THE    RAHWAY.  93 

as  iha  leader  of  the  partisan  legion,  with  his  dragoons 
arid  a  small  force  of  infantry,  was  despatched  to  perform 
the  same  duty  against  their  right.  The  whole  force  of 
Greene  was  but  thirteen  hundred  men,  and  of  these,  three 
hundred  were  militia.  He  disposed  these,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  the  best  advantage,  to  economize  their  strength, 
and  gain  time ;  and  he  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  skirmishing  forces  under  Lee  and 
Dayton  performed  the  tasks  assigned  them.  They  made 
a  spirited  resistance  to  the  enemy's  approach,  and  offered 
all  the  opposition  that  squadrons  so  inferior  could  make  ; 
but  without  being  able  to  prevent  the  junction  of  the  as 
sailing  columns,  which  at  length  united  upon  the  main 
road,  and  made  their  appearance  almost  as  soon  as 
Greene's  troops,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Rahway,  were 
drawn  out  to  receive  them.  His  artillery  was  posted 
behind  the  bridges  by  which  the  principal  stream  was 
crossed ;  that  of  the  enemy  was  in  advance  of  his  col 
umns.  A  brisk  cannonade  ensued,  which  continued  with 
great  spirit  for  nearly  two  hours.  The  manoeuvres  of 
the  British,  meanwhile,  manifested  a  desire  to  turn  the 
American  left,  and  thus  get  into  its  rear.  This,  as 
Greene  well  knew,  was  practicable.  Both  the  streams 
from  which  the  Rah  way  took  its  rise,  were  passable,  as 
well  by  fords  as  by  the  bridge  on  the  Vauxhall  road. 
The  possession  of  the  hills  in  his  rear  would  be  decisive 
against  him.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  that  a  new 
position  should  be  taken ;  and  Lee,  with  the  pickets  un 
der  Walker,  and  assisted  by  Ogden,  was  assigned  to  the 
defence  of  the  bridge  over  the  southern  branch  of  the 
Rahway ;  to  the  regiment  of  Shreve  was  given  in  charge 
the  upper  bridge,  over  the  chief  branch,  while  Colonel 
Angel,  with  a  like  force,  and  one  field-piece,  was  left  to 
defend  the  passage  of  the  principal  stream.  "With  the 
residue  of  his  force,  consisting  of  Stark's  and  Max- 


94  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

well's  brigades,  Greene  retired  to  a  strong-  position 
among  the  hills  in  the  rear,  his  flanks  being  guarded  by 
militia. 

With  the  first  movement  of  the  main  body,  the  British 
advanced  upon  the  bridge  which  was  held  by  Angel. 
Their  assault,  aiming  to  force  the  passage,  was  fell  and 
furious.  They  were  resisted,  however,  with  a  rare  spirit, 
and  recoiled  from  their  first  onset  with  loss  and  confu 
sion.  But  this  success  was,  necessarily,  temporary  only. 
How  could  such  a  handful  of  men  resist,  for  any  length  of 
time,  a  formidable  column  of  the  foe,  flushed  with  con 
fidence  in  experience  and  numbers,  and  bringing  with 
them  ten  pieces  of  artillery.  The  assault  was  renewed, 
but  the  struggle  was  maintained,  stubbornly,  for  fifty 
minutes,  until  one  fourth  of  the  force  of  the  American 
colonel  were  killed  or  wounded.  It  was  not  then,  nor 
until  he  knew  that  Greene  had  reached  his  destined 
position,  that  Angel  drew  off  his  division,  bringing  away 
with  him  his  artillery  and  wounded,  and  coolly,  0nd  in 
good  order,  retiring  to  the  other  bridge,  wher  4  ^hreve 
was  in  position. 

Equally  obstinate  was  the  defence  mad  <  V/  Lee  at 
the  pass  confided  to  his  keeping.  Assaile/Jr  ry  t<ie  right 
column  of  the  enemy,  he  met  the  attack  v-j'.h  a  firmness 
and  gallantry,  which  only  forebore  the  struggle  in  the 
moment  of  its  utter  hopelessness.  T'iO  stream  was 
already  crossed,  by  a  considerable  Vxly  of  the  enemy, 
at  an  upper  ford ;  and  these,  ha7J-i£  gained  a  hill  by 
which  his  position  was  commanded,  compelled  Lee,  very 
reluctantly,  to  abandon  the  pos*  which  he  had  so  nobly 
held.  Pushing  on  at  the  heole  of  these  two  divisions, 
the  British  encountered  the  detachment  under  Shreve, 
now  strengthened  by  lha  united  battalions  of  Lee  and 
Angel.  Animated  by  the  gallant  example  of  the  troops 
under  these  officers,  tKose  of  Shreve  prepared  to  give  a 


THE    BRITISH    BURN    SPRINGFIELD.  95 

uo  less  determined  reception  to  the  enemy.  The  onset 
of  the  British  was  met  with  a  welcome  of  shot  and  steel 
which  made  them  shy  and  reluctant;  and,  though  ad 
vancing  still,  they  did  so  in  a  manner  sufficiently  modest, 
to  enable  Shreve  to  retire,  coolly  and  without  confusion, 
upon  the  main  body.  Here,  with  his  regular  force 
drawn  up  in  a  single  line,  in  a  commanding  position, 
flanked  by  the  dragoons  and  militia,  Greene  calmly  stood 
in  waiting  for  the  general  battle.  But  the  enterprise  of 
the  assailants  had  been  wonderfully  cooled  by  the  obsti 
nate  conflicts  through  which  they  had  already  gone. 
They  had  been  handled  too  roughly,  by  the  small 
divisions  with  which  they  had  been  engaged,  to  venture 
upon  the  entire  force  of  the  Americans,  while  they  pre 
sented  a  front  so  determined,  and  occupied  a  position  so 
strong.  Taught  to  fear  by  the  loss  which  they  had 
already  sustained,  and  stung  to  fury  for  the  same  reason, 
they  sought  for  their  victims  among  those  from  whose 
weapons  they  had  nothing  to  apprehend.  Avoiding 
the  conflict  which  Greene  stood  prepared  to  give  them, 
they  concentrated  their  wrath  upon  the  defenceless  .vil 
lage ;  and  the  flames  of  its  houses  soon  apprized  the 
American  general  of  the  sort  of  vengeance  which  the 
British  were  disposed  to  seek.  Then  it  was,  that  the 
sharpshooters  of  the  Americans,  and  the  militia,  pantipg 
to  avenge  the  sufferings  of  their  houseless  innocents, 
were  let  slip  upon  the  scattered  marauders.  They  stole 
do  vvn  to  the  scene  of  conflagration ;  and  many  a  Briton, 
that  day,  perished  by  the  light  of  the  very  flame  which 
his  incendiary  torch  had  kindled.  With  the  general 
conflagration  of  the  village — for  only  four,  out  of  fifty, 
dwellings  escaped  —  the  British  begun  their  retreat, 
hastened,  no  doubt,  by  apprehensions  of  the  approach 
of  Washington.  Small  parties  of  the  Americans  were 
instantly  pushed  forward,  to  hang  upon  their  wings 


96  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

harass  their  flight ;  while  the  brigade  of  Starke  was  also 
put  in  motion  for  direct  pursuit.  Washington  had 
already  despatched  three  hundred  men  to  Greene's 
assistance,  and  was,  himself,  rapidly  hurrying  to  the 
scene  of  action.  But  the  celerity  with  which  the  British 
fled,  unencumbered  by  any  baggage,  and  protected  by  a 
powerful  rear-guard,  saved  them  from  any  farther  injury 
than  that  which  they  had  sustained  in  the  encounters  of 
the  day,  and  in  the  after-gleanings  which  were  made,  of 
deliberately-chosen  victims,  by  the  rifles  of  the  enraged 
militia.  The  British  reached  Elizabethtown  in  safety, 
and  that  night  recrossed  to  the  city.  Their  only  real 
achievement,  that  of  the  destruction  of  a  harmless  vil 
lage,  reflected  no  credit  upon  their  chivalry ;  while  their 
failure  to  effect  anything  against  the  vastly  inferior  force 
of  Greene,  was  as  little  creditable  to  their  skill  and 
valor.  Greene's  reputation  as  a  cool  and  experienced 
captain  —  one  of  great  resources,  and  of  \\ionderful  cir 
cumspection —  was  greatly  increased  by  this  affair.  The 
Annual  Register  (British),  speaking  of  the  conduct  of 
the  Americans  on  this  occasion,  remarks  :  "  It  was  now 
evident,  that  the  British  forces  had  an  enemy  little  less 
respectable  in  the  field  than  themselves  to  encounter; 
and  that  any  difference  which  yet  remained  in  their 
favor  would  be  daily  lessened.  In  a  word,  it  was  now 
obvious,  that  all  that  superiority  in  arms  which  produced 
such  effects,  in  the  beginning  of  the  contest,  was,  in  a 
great  measure,  at  an  end;  and  that  the  events  of  the 
war  must,  in  future,  depend  upon  fortune,  and  upon  the 
abilities  of  the  respective  commanders." 


CLINTON'S  DESIGNS  ON  THE  SOUTH.  97 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Demonstrations  on  New  York. — Treason  of  Arnold. — Greene  appointed 
to  the  Post  at  West  Point. — Gates's  Defeat. — Greene  succeeds  him 
in  Command  of  the  Southern  Army. — Proceeds  to  the  South. — Joint 
the  Army  at  Charlotte,  N.  C.— Treatment  of  Gates. 

WITH  the  affair  at  Springfield,  ended,  for  a  season, 
att  the  active  operations  of  the  campaign.  The  com 
mander  of  the  British  seemed  disposed  to  give  his  troops 
a  respite,  and  was,  perhaps,  somewhat  restrained  from 
attempting  anything  at  the  north,  in  consequence  of  the 
threatened  appearance  of  a  fleet  and  army  from  France, 
in  co-operation  with  the  Americans.  Besides,  as  already 
suggested,  he  was  preparing  to  shift  the  scene  of  action, 
wholly,  to  the  south.  By  cutting  off  state  by  state,  in  a 
region  whose  population  was  so  small,  compared  with 
that  of  the  northern  portions  of  the  confederacy,  the 
conquest,  it  was  calculated,  might  be  effected  in  detail, 
beginning  at  the  extremities,  rather  than  striking  at  the 
centre,  to  which  all  the  defensive  energies  of  the  con 
tinent  were  necessarily  directed.  The  south  never,  at 
any  time,  possessed  such  an  army  as  was  maintained, 
during  the  whole  war,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  chief 
cities  of  the  north. 

The  Americans  were  inactive  from  other  causes. 
The  succors  of  France,  a  fleet  and  army  under  De 
Tierny,  arrived  early  in  July.  This  fleet  was  superior 
to  that  of  the  British,  and,  with  the  troops  which  it 
brought,  ought  to  have  secured  to  the  allies  equal  ascen 
dency  by  land  and  sea.  But  this  superiority  was  soon 
5 


98  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  arrival  of  reinforce 
ments  to  the  British,  under  Admiral  Graves  ;  and,  though 
the  American  militia,  encouraged  by  the  strong  force 
brought  by  their  allies,  had  taken  the  -field  with  new 
activity  and  in  considerable  numbers,  yet,  this  show  of 
spirit  was  rendered  abortive  by  the  position  of  the 
French,  who  were  blockaded,  by  a  superior  fleet,  in  the 
harbor  of  Newport.  Clinton  prepared  to  make  a  dem 
onstration  on  Newport;  while  Washington,  equally  on 
the  alert,  stood  ready  to  make  a  corresponding  attempt 
upon  New  York.  By  the  greatest  efforts,  the  means  of 
transportation  were  procured,  and  preparations  made 
for  a  joint  attack  by  land  and  water  on  that  city.  But 
Clinton  was  too  vigilant  to  lose  sight  of  this  important 
position.  Discovering  his  enemy's  game,  he  regained 
his  fortresses  by  a  prompt  retrograde  movement,  which 
put  his  stronghold  once  more  in  a  state  of  security. 

With  the  abandonment  of  the  enterprise  against  New 
York,  Washington  proceeded  to  Hartford,  there  to  meet 
and  consult  with  the  French  commander  in  regard  to 
future  operations.  He  left  the  army  in  charge  of  Greene. 
This  vigilant  general  was  soon  led  to  suspect  that  the 
British  commander  was  meditating  a  secret  movement 
of  great  importance.  He  had  established  a  regular 
communication  with  New  York,  and  obtained  consider 
able  intelligence  through  the  medium  of  his  spies ;  but 
these,  though  satisfied  that  an  important  expedition  was 
designed  by  the  enemy,  were  entirely  at  fault  when  it 
became  necessary  to  define  its  objects.  Conjecture  was 
nearly  equally  divided  between  Rhode  Island  and  Vir 
ginia.  The  casual  language  of  the  enemy,  and  his  open 
demonstrations,  looked  equally  to  these  points.  Greei  o 
was  not  to  be  deceived.  He  writes  to  Washington  ...o.c 
he  suspects  "  some  secret  expedition  in  contemrlacion  ; 
the  success  of  which  depends  altogether  upon  its  being 


TREASON    OF    ARNOLD.  9& 

"kept  secret"  This  letter  was  written  on  the  21st  of 
September :  the  whole  mystery  was  developed  on  the 
23d,  when  Andre  was  taken  prisoner,  and  the  treachery 
of  Benedict  Arnold  discovered.  The  well-known  object 
of  Arnold's  negotiation,  was  the  delivery  of  West  Point 
to  the  British.  The  importance  of  this  place  to  the 
interests,  if  not  the  cause,  of  American  independence, 
needs  no  recital.  The  moment  chosen  was  particularly 
auspicious  for  the  British,  inasmuch  as  the  arrival  of 
Rodney,  with  his  fleet,  not  only  gave  them  an  abundance 
of  water  transportation,  but  enabled  Clinton  to  engage 
in  a  distant  enterprise,  and  yet  leave  New  York  in  a 
state  of  security  against  the  enterprise  of  the  Americans. 

Greene's  first  knowledge  of  the  defection  of  Arnold 
was  derived  from  a  letter  of  Hamilton,  received  on  the 
25th.  It  explained  all  that  was  mysterious  in  the  pro 
ceedings  of  the  British.  Without  delay,  he  prepared 
to  march  the  army  to  the  defence  of  West  Point.  On 
the  morning  of  the  26th,  his  whole  force  had  been  put 
under  marching  orders,  and,  with  the  second  division,  in 
obedience  to  instructions  from  Washington,  he  pushed 
forward  with  this  command,  as  far  as  King's  ferry,  the 
remainder  of  the  army  being  held  in  readiness  to  move 
at  any  moment. 

It  does  not  belong  to  us  to  narrate  the  details  of 
Arnold's  treachery;  and  the  fate  of  Andre  is  too  well 
known  to  require  more  than  a  passing  notice.  Sent 
under  close  guard  to  the  American  camp,  Washington, 
in  a  private  letter,  gave  Greene  his  instructions.  A 
court  of  inquiry  was  convened,  to  determine  upon  tho 
case  of  the  prisoner,  which  was  of  many  novel  features. 
Greene  presided  at  the  deliberations  of  this  court,  which 
was  composed  of  men  of  the  highest  worth  and  greatest 
dignity  in  the  army.  The  opinion  of  the  court  was 
unanimous.  Andre  was  convicted  on  his  own  confession, 


100  LIFE  OP  NATHANAFT,  GREENE. 

Painful  as  was  the  duty,  it  was  inevitable,  and  he  waa 
sentpnced  to  suffer  as  a  spy.  When  the  report  of  the 
sitting,  drawn  up  by  Laurens,  was  handed  to  Greene 
for  his  signature,  his  head  was  seen  to  bend  low  upon 
the  paper,  to  hide  the  tear  which  he  could  not  suppress. 
The  death-warrant  bore  traces,  also,  of  the  regrets  of 
those  who,  while  forced  to  condemn,  were  not  insensible 
to  pity.  The  graces  and  accomplishments  of  the  crim 
inal,  his  manly  bearing,  his  youth,  his  talents  and  imputed 
virtues,  were  considerations  which,  could  they  have  been 
allowed  before  the  court  of  justice,  would  have  been 
sure  to  have  made  themselves  felt,  for  his  safety,  through 
the  awakened  sympathies  of  his  judges.  But,  the  neces 
sity  of  the  example,  the  peril  upon  whose  verge  the 
country  still  stood,  were  conclusive  arguments,  which  no 
erring  weakness  of  the  indulgent  nature  could,  possibly, 
oppose.  Andre  pleaded  that  the  manner  of  his  death 
might  be  changed  ;  but  this,  too,  a  rigid  justice  did  not 
dare  to  concede.  To  die  as  a  soldier,  was  not  the  award 
of  punishment.  The  true  penalty  lay  in  the  infamy  of 
the  death. 

The  proceedings  of  the  court  were  duly  communicated 
to  the  British  commander.  Clinton  made  every  effort 
to  save  the  victim  from  his  doom.  Commissioners 
were  sent  to  the  American  posts,  to  argue  the  propriety 
of  the  judgment,  and  to  arrest  it  if  they  could.  But  one 
of  the  commissioners,  General  Robertson,  was  permitted 
to  land.  He  was  met  by  Greene,  on  behalf  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief.  The  conference  took  place  at  King's 
ferry.  We  need  riot,  here,  renew  the  arguments  urged 
on  either  side.  Enough  that  no  legal  ingenuity  could 
change  the  firm  convictions  of  Greene  ;  and  Andre  suf 
fered,  according  to  his  sentence,  at  the  village  of  Tappan, 
where,  at  that  time,  the  principal  part  of  the  American 
army  lay  encamped. 


GREENE    SUCCEEDS    ARNOLD    AT    WEST    POINT.       101 

Greene  succeeded  to  the  command  of  the  post  at 
West  Point,  made  vacant  by  the  treason  of  Arnold.  He 
found  it  in  the  most  shocking  confusion  ;  neglected  in 
most  essential  respects,  and  so  prepared  as  to  render 
it  an  easy  prey  to  the  operations  of  the  enemy.  To  place 
it  in  instant  readiness  against  any  enterprise,  was  the 
pressing  necessity,  and  the  proofs  remain  of  his  equal 
wisdom,  skill,  and  diligence.  Nor  was  he  suffered  to 
concentrate  his  whole  thoughts  and  energies  upon  this 
one  subject.  He  was  the  premier  of  Washington,  held 
to  a  constant  correspondence  with  the  commander-in- 
chief,  day  by  day,  on  subjects,  always- of  importance,  and 
frequently  of  the  gravest  and  most  complex  character. 
This  correspondence  still  exists  in  equal  proof  of  his 
own  various  abilities  and  of  the  unlimited  confidence 
which  Washington  reposed  in  his  judgment  and  integrity 
"  Thus,"  says  Johnson,  "  at  one  time  he  is  called  upon 
to  make  a  full  estimate  of  all  the  expenses  for  a  year, 
attendant  upon  an  establishment  of  thirty-two  thousand 
men.  At  another,  to  sum  up  the  whole  annual  expense 
incident  to  the  war,  to  give  a  view  of  the  sums  paid  by 
each  state  toward  it,  and  their  capacity  to  continue  or 
increase  their  present  contributions.  At  another,  to 
consider  the  expediency  of  prosecuting  the  plans  of 
the  campaign  hitherto  pursued,  or  what  changes  shall 
be  adopted  upon  the  various  exigencies  which  might 
occur,"  &c.  These  are  all  hard  cipherings,  and  that 
Greene  should  still  be  required  to  go  through  with  them, 
various  and  difficult  as  they  were,  and  so  little  informed 
by  rule  as  he  had  been,  would  go  to  prove  the  wonderful 
facility  and  resources  of  his  mind,  its  ready  adaptation  to 
novel  circumstances,  the  comprehensiveness  of  his  vis 
ion,  and  the  correctness  of  his  judgment — at  least  in  the 
opinion  of  the  commander-in-chief. 

But  he  was  soon  to  change  the  scene  of  his  opera* 


J.02  LIFE    OF    NATHANAFL    GREENE. 

lions,  while  emerging  into  a  larger  scene  of  action. 
We  have  already  indicated  that  change  in  the  plan  of 
invasion  by  which  the  British  calculated  to  effect  the  di 
vision  or  partial  defeat,  if  not  the  entire  coercion  of  the 
colonies.  The  front  of  war  was  now  fully  turning  upon  the 
south.  Not  that  the  enemy  had  hitherto  withheld  himself 
from  this  region.  Thrice  had  South  Carolina  been  inva 
ded,  twice  to  the  disaster  and  defeat  of  the  assailants. 
A  third  time,  overwhelmed  with  a  vastly  superior  force, 
at  the  moment  of  her  greatest  weakness  and  exhaustion, 
from  previous  struggles,  her  capital  city  had  been  over 
come,  and  almost  the  entire  regular  army  assigned  to 
her  assistance,  with  a  large  portion  of  her  militia,  had 
become  prisoners-of-war.  Georgia  was  completely  pros 
trate,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  the  invader  had  ad 
vanced,  with  rapid  strides,  into  the  very  heart  of  both 
these  states.  A  small  and  inadequate  force  of  continen 
tals  had  been  pressed  forward  with  too  much  rapidity, 
and  led  headlong  to  complete  overthrow,  by  the  pre 
sumptuous  rashness  of  the  conquerer  of  Burgoyne.  The 
news  of  Gate's  defeat  at  Camden,  following  close  upon 
the  failure  of  the  French  allies  to  effect  anything  in  co 
operation  with  Washington,  and  the  hasty  disbandment 
of  the  militia,  necessarily  produced,  in  the  nation,  after 
the  first  feeling  of  despondency  and  dismay,  a  conviction 
of  the  necessity  of  making  new  and  superior  exertions 
to  arrest  the  progress  which  the  enemy  was  making  in 
the  south.  Troops  must  be  raised  to  reinforce  the  re 
mains  of  the  southern  army,  and  to  restore  the  strength 
of  its  skeleton  regiments.  These  troops  were  to  be 
drawn  wholly  from  the  militia  of  the  southern  states, 
sin:e  the  eastern  soldiers  were  quite  unwilling  to  be 
marched  away  from  thftir  own  abodes.  Contingents 
were  called  for  from  Maryland,  Virginia,  Delaware,  and 
the  Carolinas  —  from  regions  which  had  already  felt  the 


GATES'S    DEFEAT    AT    CAMDEN  103 

drain  of  such  requisitions,  and  were  weary  of  toils  that 
seemed  to  promise  no  results.  These  were  not  promptly 
forthcoming,  and  a  no  less  serious  difficulty  lay  in  the 
choice  of  a  general  who  should  command  them.  The 
fields  of  the  south  had  been  particularly  unfriendly  to 
the  fortunes  of  foreign  generals.  Lincoln  was  a  prison 
er-of-war,  and  Gates,  late  a  favorite,  was  now  a  fugitive, 
under  cloud  and  the  censure  of  his  country.  The  de 
feat  of  Gates,  in  itself  a  great  calamity,  since  it  sacrificed 
an  army,  and  encouraged  wondrously  the  hopes  of  the 
loyalists,  was  yet  not  without  its  advantages,  since  it 
took  from  him  that  prestige  which  had  been  wretchedly 
employed  by  the  enemies  of  Washington  as  a  mean  for 
his  discredit  and  overthrow.  Had  the  commander-in-chief 
been  consulted,  wj^en  Gates  received  the  appointment 
of  Congress,  Greene  would  have  been  indicated  to  the 
command  which  wrecked  the  fortunes  of  the  hero  (so 
called,  but  erroneously)  of  Saratoga.  His  defeat  re 
moved  from  the  eyes  of  Congress  those  scales  of  preju 
dice,  which  had  hitherto  made  them  blind  to  the  deficien 
cies  in  his  character.  Taught  a  severe  lesson  by  the 
terrible  disaster  at  Camden,  they  were  now  better  pre 
pared  to  defer  their  own  to  the  judgment  of  Washington. 
He  was  at  length  authorized  to  name  a  successor  of 
Gates  to  the  command  of  the  southern  army.  There 
was  no  doubt,  when  this  resolve  was  taken,  upon  whom 
his  choice  would  fall ;  and  his  preference  was  confirmed 
by  the  declared  wishes  of  the  delegates  in  Congress  from 
the  states  most  concerned  in  the  event.  Washington, 
promptly,  and  in  an  affectionate  letter,  communicated 
his  desires  to  Greene.  The  latter,  in  modest  reply,  de 
clared  his  compliance,  and  only  entreated  a  short  leave 
of  absence  to  "  set  his  house  in  order,"  before  departing 
on  a  distant  and  perilous  expedition.  His  request  was 
reasonable.  He  had  been  more  than  five  years  in  the 


104  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

service,  and  his  private  interests  had  been  almost  wholly 
yielded  up,  without  inquiry  or  examination,  to  the  control 
and  care  of  others.  But  the  duty  was  pressing.  In  his 
reply,  Washington  says:  "I  wish  circumstances  could 
be  made  to  correspond  to  your  wishes  to  spend  a  little 
time  at  home  previous  to  your  setting  out ;  but  your 
presence  with  your  command,  as  soon  as  possible,  is  indis 
pensable."  So  imperative  was  friendship,  when  coerced 
by  duty  !  But  Greene's  determination  had  already  been 
made  before  he  received  this  reply.  He  was  no  less 
quick  to  feel  this  indispensable  necessity,  than  his  friend 
to  urge  it.  He  writes,  in  answer  :  "  I  had  given  up  the 
thought  of  going  home  before  the  receipt  of  your  letter. 
J\ly  affairs  required  it ;  but  I  was  afraid  it  would  take 
up  too  much  time,  considering  the  critical  state  of  affairs 
to  the  southward"  *  A  single  day's  further  delay,  and  he 
set  forward  on  the  rugged  path  of  duty,  not  waiting  even 
for  the  embraces  of  his  wife,  momently  expected,  of 
children  scarcely  seen,  while  departing  on  a  journey  of 
nearly  seven  hundred  miles.  A  low  fever,  which  had 
hung  upon  him  for  some  time,  the  fruit  of  exposure  and 
anxiety,  did  not  suffice  to  excuse  a  delay  which  his  sense 
of  duty  could  not  justify  in  favor  of  his  affections. 

Greene  hastened,  first,  to  headquarters,  where  his 
reception  was  such  as  declared,  not  only  for  the  high 
favor  in  which  he  stood  with  Washington,  but  for  his 
greatly-increased  and  lofty  reputation  with  the  army. 
The  advice  of  Washington,  solicitous  at  once  for  the 
reputation  of  Greene,  and  for  the  success  of  his  enter 
prise,  was  freely  given,  and  all  the  assistance  promised 
which  he  should  be  a.ble  to  bestow.  Here,  too.  ready 
and  eager  to  serve  under  him,  he  found  some  of  the 
noblest  spirits  of  the  army  —  Lafayette,  Colonel  Laurens, 
Major  Lee,  and  others  —  who  esteemed  his  personal 
worth,  and  did  justice  to  his  rare  merits  as  a  soldier. 


GREENE  PROCEEDS  TO  THE  SOUTH.        105 

Thus  encouraged  and  assured,  Greene  hastened  to 
Philadelphia,  where  he  received  the  instructions  of 
Congress  in  relation  to  the  campaign,  and  ascertained 
the  full  extent  of  the  resources  which  were  forthcoming 
for  his  enterprise.  These  were  few,  and  sufficiently 
unpromising.  The  army  itself  was  a  merely  nominal 
existence — a  shadow,  rather  than  a  substance.  The 
fatal  defeat  of  Gates  had  lost  everything  in  the  shape  of 
stores,  baggage,  and  artillery.  Every  article  was  to  be 
supplied,  and  Congress  had  no  money.  A  small  sum, 
meant  only  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  journey,  was 
all  that  could  be  procured  ;  while  an  attempt  to  obtain  a 
loan,  and  contributions  of  clothing,  from  the  merchants 
of  Philadelphia,  resulted  only  in  proving,  that  govern 
ment  was  as  singularly  .wanting  in  credit  as  in  cash. 
But  for  the  friendship  and  activity  of  Governor  Read, 
Greene  must  have  set  forth  upon  his  expedition  for  the 
south,  almost  wholly  deficient  in  every  requisite,  either 
for  himself  or  his  army.  Read  supplied  him  with  a 
certain  quantity  of  arms  and  munitions  from  the  state 
magazines,  and  assisted  him  in  procuring  the  use  of  bag 
gage-wagons  for  their  transportation.  The  annexation 
of  Delaware  and  Maryland  to  his  military  department, 
from  which  states,  hereafter,  he  might  draw  contingents, 
and  very  liberal  promises  of  future- supplies,  constituted 
the  full  measure  of  all  the  support  which  Congress,  at 
this  moment,  could  contribute  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
conflict  in  the  south.  Leaving  Colonel  Febiger  behind 
him  in  Philadelphia,  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  jog  the 
memories  of  great  men  in  regard  to  these  promises,  and 
forward  the  supplies  as  they  might  accumulate,  Greene 
set  out,  on  the  23d  of  November,  on  his  journey  to  the 
Carolinas.  He  was  accompanied  by  Baron  Steuben, 
and  his  two  aids,  Major  Burnet  and  Colonel  Morris.  The 
journey  was  a  tedious  one,  which  could  only  have  "been 


106  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

relieved  by  the  mode  pursued  by  our  travellers,  of 
encountering  its  monotony  by  an  unwearied  regard  to  a.l 
subjects,  which  might  be  considered,  in  reference  to  the 
great  objects  which  they  had  in  view.  As  the  route  lay 
through  the  capitals  of  several  states,  a  brief  halt  at  the 
seat  of  each  government,  enabled  the  general  of  the 
southern  army  to  investigate  their  resources,  and  to 
adopt  measures  with  the  leading  persons  of  each  for 
supplying  and  sustaining  his  army.  To  awaken  them 
all  to  a  sense  of  the  approaching  danger  —  to  show  that 
the  cause  was  a  common  one,  and  was  only  to  be  ren- 
dered-successful  and  secure  by  a  common  action  —  was  a 
chief  employment  during  this  progress.  To  those  more 
remote  from  the  seat  of  danger,  he  showed  how  cer 
tainly  the  fate  of  the  immediate  sufferer  must  be  theirs, 
unless  the  assailed  parties,  struggling  for  life  and  death, 
should  be  seasonably  succored;  and  insisted  upon  the 
policy,  in  its  most  selfish  aspect,  of  saving,  harmless,  the 
sister  state,  if  only  that  the  wolf  might  be  kept  from 
other  thresholds.  To  those  on  the  verge  of  the  danger, 
with  their  apprehensions  already  awakened  for  their  own 
safety,  he  showed  the  necessity  of  firmness,  promptitude, 
and  a  manly  readiness  to  meet  and  brave  the  worst,  as 
the  true  secret  at  once  of  security  and  patriotism.  In 
order  the  more  perfectly  to  keep  the  remoter  states  from 
indifference  and  forgetfulness  to  the  claims  of  those 
over  which  the  invader  was  already  sweeping  with  resist 
less  strides,  he  left  General  Gist  in  Maryland,  to  act  as 
the  agent  for  the  southern  army  in  that  state  and  Dela 
ware.  The  Baron  Steuben  was  left  in  military  charge 
of  Virginia.  To  these  men,  urging  their  duties  upon 
them,  his  language  is  full  of  impressive  earnestness. 
"  Let  your  applications,"  he  says,  "  be  as  pressing  as  our 
necessities  are  urgent." — "  The  greatest  consequences 
depend  upon  your  activity  and  zeaL"  To  Steuben  was 


GRE  KITE'S   PREPARATIONS.  107 

assigned  the  establishment  of  magazines  and  laborato 
ries.  The  south,  hitherto,  had  been  almost  wholly  with 
out  them.  The  sites  for  these  were  chosen  by  Greene, 
whose  eyes,  as  he  approached  the  field  of  operations, 
were  addressed  to  all  that  was  important  to  his  success : 
This  choice  of  location  was  one  of  no  small  difficulty. 
In  Maryland,  they  would  have  been  too  remote  from  the 
scene  of  action  ;  in  North  Carolina,  much  too  near. 
Virginia  was  the  state  in  which  it  was  necessary  tc 
establish  them.  The  point  of  Fort,  at  the  confluence 
of  Revanna  and  Fluvanna,  was  decided  upon  for  the 
principal  laboratory;  while  the  chief  depdt  of  stores  and 
arms  was  allotted  to  Prince  Edward  courthouse.  To  keep 
these  regularly  supplied  with  powder  from  the  manufac 
tories,  and  lead  from  the  mines  of  Fincastle,  was  one  of 
the  special  duties  confided  to  Steuben.  Greene  vested 
him,  besides,  with  the  military  command  in  Virginia,  and 
with  the  farther  task  of  organizing,  disciplining,  and 
expediting,  the  march  of  the  recruits,  from  time  to  time, 
intended  for  the  southern  army.  Jefferson  was,  at  this 
time,  the  governor  of  Virginia.  He  was  appealed  to, 
and  freely  promised,  to  use  all  his  energies  in  promoting 
the  preparations  of  the  state  in  regard  to  the  common 
danger.  Virginia  had,  at  this  period,  but  few  regular 
troops  in  the  field.  A  considerable  body  of  her  militia, 
with  all  the  draughts  and  recruits  collected  to  reinforce  the 
southern  army,  were  employed,  at  this  very  juncture,  un 
der  the  command  of  Generals  Muhlenberg  and  Weedon, 
in  watching  the  movements  of  General  Leslie,  which 
threatened  her  own  safety.  Her  want  of  means  and 
zredit  was  quite  as  great  as  that  of  Congress ;  and  her 
movements  were  embarrassed  at  once  by  the  presence 
of  danger,  and  the  absence  of  adequate  resources  for 
defence.  The  southern  army  had.  but  little  to  hope 
from  tlris  quarter.  The  resources  of  North  Carolina, 


103  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

never  ample,  were  perhaps  still  less  available,  at  this 
moment,  than  those  of  Virginia.  Men  there  were,  per 
haps,  in  sufficient  numbers ;  but  they  lacked  concentra 
tion,  habits  of  drill  and  discipline,  equipments  of  all 
kinds,  munitions  of  war,  and  military  stores.  There 
was  no  money  in  the  state,  and  the  granaries  of  the 
country  were  empty.  The  fall  of  Charleston,  and  the 
defeat  of  Gates  at  Camden,  had  led  to  an  unwise  enrol 
ment  of  vast  bodies  of  militia,  by  which  the  country  had 
been  ravaged,  and  in  the  support  of  which,  such  vast 
quantities  of  paper  money  had  been  issued,  as  totally  to 
destroy  its  own  currency. 

But,  with  an  eye  to  all  things,  and  every  thought 
addressed  to  the  emergency,  devising  ways  and  means, 
and  undespairirig  in  the  worst  discouragements,  Greene 
continued  his  way  through  these  states,  toward  the  field 
of  more  active  operations.  "With  all  his  delays,  his 
progress  was  a  rapid  one,  and  soon  brought  him  to  the 
encampment  of  the  army  at  Charlotte,  North  Carolina, 
which  he  reached  on  the  2d  of  December.  Here,  with 
a  noble  delicacy,  which  keenly  appreciated  the  exquisite 
suffering  of  a  proud  and  ambitious  mind,  sinking  beneath 
unexpected,  though  perhaps  not  undeserved  disaster,  he 
relieved  Gates  of  the  command.  He  confirmed,  for  the 
day,  the  standing  orders  of  his  predecessor,  whose  be 
havior  was  marked  by  a  dignified  resignation,  and  a 
carriage  which  was,  at  once,  equally  removed  from  the 
baseness  of  despondency,  and  the  insolence  of  a  spirit 
ready  to  brave  public  opinion,  as  it  had,  unhappily, 
essayed  to  brave  its  fortune.  It  was  also  among  the 
delicate  duties  of  Greene,  while  relieving  Gates  from  the 
command,  to  institute  a  court  of  inquiry  into  the  conduct 
by  which  the  battle  of  Camden  had  been  lost.  It  was 
grateful  to  Greene  that  he  could  escape  from  the  prose 
cution  of  this  painful  investigation.  The  service  was 


GREENE'S  BEHAVIOR  TO  GATES.  109 

not  in  a  condition  to  allow,  nor  the  army  to  make  it. 
The  order  of  Washington,  requii ing  that  the  "officers 
of  the  court  should  consist  of  such  general  and  field 
officers,  of  the  continental  troops,  as  were  not  present  at 
the  battle  of  Camden  ;  or,  being  present,  are  not  wanted 
as  witnesses ;  or  are  persons  to  whom  General  Gates 
has  no  objection,"  involved  conditions  which  could  not 
be  complied  with.  There  wore  not,  in  fact,  three  gen 
eral  officers  left  in  the  army  who  could  sit  upon  the 
court,  unless  withdrawn  from  other  places  where  their 
presence  was  indispensable.  Under  these  circumstances, 
Greene  gladly  made  such  representations  to  Congress 
as  obtained  a  revision  of  their  orders,  by  which  he  was 
wholly  relieved  from  a  duty  from  which  all  his  sensibili 
ties  shrunk.  He  regarded  Gates's  case  with  tenderness  : 
too  indulgently,  perhaps  —  but  as  one  of  misfortune, 
rather  than  misconduct ;  and  his  behavior  to  the  unfor 
tunate  man  —  for  ever  fallen,  by  this  his  own  catastrophe, 
from  the  very  heights  of  power — while  it  was  "edifying 
to  the  army,"  touched  the  soul  of  the  sufferer  himself, 
and  converted  him,  from  a  former  enemy,  into  an  attached 
and  grateful  friend. 


110  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Glimpses  of  the  past  Progress  of  the  War  in  the  South. — Condition  of  tha 
Country  and  of  the  Army  when  Greene  takes  Command. — His  Difficul 
ties — Resources — Policy.— Moves  from  Charlotte  to  Pee  Dee. — Mari 
on's  Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton  pursues  Morgan. — 
Is  defeated  at  the  Cawpens. 

IT  was  on  the  fourth  of  December,  1780,  that  Greene 
entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  new  and  arduous  com 
mand.  It  was  one  of  singular  difficulty  and  respon 
sibility,  and  the  means  provided  for  his  use  and  disposal 
were  strangely  inadequate  to  the  necessities  before  him. 
The  condition  of  South  Carolina  was  one  of  great  desti 
tution,  and  of  a  prostration  apparently  complete.  Her 
resources  seemed  to  be  entirely  exhausted,  and  her  strong 
places  were  wholly  within  the  grasp  of  the  invader.  A 
backward  glance  at  her  fortunes,  during  the  war,  up  to 
the  moment  when  Greene  was  appointed  to  the  com 
mand  of  the  southern  army,  would  seem,  in  some  de 
gree,  to  be  necessary  to  a  proper  comprehension  of  the 
duties  which  were  required  at  his  hands,  and  of  the  dif 
ficulties  which  lay  in  the  way  of  their  successful  execution. 
South  Carolina  was  one  of  those  states  which  are  at  once 
opulent  and  feeble.  She  enjoyed  a  large  commerce, but 
it  was  almost  entirely  in  the  hands  of  Europeans  who 
were  secretly  hostile  to  her  aims  at  independence.  Those 
aims  were  boldly  urged  by  her  native  population,  con 
sisting  of  the  high  spirited  gentry  of  the  lower  country. 
Her  causes  of  quarrel  with  the  mother-country  were  of 
a  very  different  nature  with  those  that  operated  upon 


CAUSES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION    IN    CAROLINA.         Ill 

the  people  of  New  England.  They  did  not  arise  from 
feelings  of  jealousy  between  the  parties  in  consequence 
of  threatened  rivalry  of  interests.  In  the  south  the  peo- 
pie  engaged  in  no  manufactures,  and  held  no  shipping. 
They  were  planters,  who  found  a  ready  market  in  Old 
England  for  all  their  produce.  But  they  felt  keenly  the  de 
nial  to  themselves  of  those  privileges  of  self-government 
which  the  possession  of  many  superior  intellects,  and  of 
a  highly-educated  state  of  society  among  the  natives,  nat 
urally  told  them  should  be  their  own.  They  resented 
the  usurpation,  not  only  as  a  denial  of  right,  but  as  an 
indignity,  which  continually  imposed  upon  them,  in  pla 
ces  of  authority,  the  foreigner  in  whom  they  did  not  find 
a  superior,  and  who  felt  no  sympathy  with  the  soil.  This 
prompted  them  readily  to  seize  upon  the  common  pre 
texts  of  the  sister-colonies,  and  to  sympathize  with  the 
movement  in  New  England,  not  because  of  any  affinities 
between  the  separate  people,  but  as  it  afforded  an  occa 
sion  for  the  assertion  of  their  rights.  But  their  motives 
were  not  of  sufficient  influence  with  the  great  body  of 
the  people  of  Carolina,  to  make  the  cause  a  common  one 
throughout  the  state.  The  people  were  not  sufficiently 
homogeneous  for  the  attainment  of  this  important  object. 
Large  portions  of  the  interior  country  had  been  only 
newly  settled,  and  from  European  nations.  The  Ger 
mans,  having  large  settlements  to  themselves,  scarcely 
speaking  the  language  of  the  natives,  were  not  easily 
persuaded  to  forego  for  the  sway  of  a  people  whom  they 
did  not  know,  the  paternal  government  of  a  prince,  him 
self  of  German  family.  The  Scotch,  forming  colonies 
throughout  the  interior,  preserved  all  their  clannish  pro 
pensities,  and  their  loyalty  has  always  been  the  distin 
guishing  feature  of  the  national  character.  The  quakei 
and  Moravian  settlements,  which  were  al&o  numerous, 
•veie  opposed  to  war,  on  any  pretences  ;  and  thus  it  was 


J12  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

that  hi  tho  very  heart  of  the  country  there  dwelt  a  pow 
erful  community  ready,  at  any  opportunity,  to  thwart,  by 
indifference  or  active  hostility,  the  efforts  of  the  native 
population,  at  the  great  object  of  national  deliverance. 
Not  a  few  of  the  natives,  also,  were  unprepared  to  strike 
for  independence;  either  doubtful  of  a  policy  which 
would,  perhaps,  elevate  the  power  of  the  northern  colo 
nies  (of  which  they  were  jealous)  at  their  expense,  or, 
doubtful  if  the  country  was  yet  ripe  for  the  great  experi 
ment  of  making  its  further  progress  alone.  For  a  time, 
however,  these  conflicting  and  opposing  interests  were 
kept  in  abeyance,  silenced  if  not  subdued,  by  the  bold 
and  energetic  measures  which  the  patriotic  party  pur 
sued,  and  the  good  fortune  which  attended  their  initial 
efforts  in  arms.  Successful,  in  singular  degree,  in  beat 
ing  off  a  British  fleet  and  army  at  the  opening  of  the 
war,  and  scourging  into  quiet  and  obedience  the  insur 
gents  who  first  made  a  demonstration  in  the  interior,  in 
correspondence  with  the  movements  of  the  enemy  upcn 
the  seaboard,  it  was  erroneously  supposed  that  there 
would  be  little  difficulty  a  second  time  from  this  doubt 
ful  quarter.  The  numbers  of  the  faithful  were  greatly 
overrated,  in  the  spirit  and  vigor  which  they  had  shown  ; 
the  numbers  of  the  disaffected  as  greatly  underrated,  in 
the  silence  which  they  kept,  and  the  stealthy  policy  which 
held  their  true  feelings  secret.  A  second  attempt  at 
the  invasion  of  South  Carolina,  after  the  partial  fall  of 
Charleston,  led  the  patriots  to  suspect,  in  some  degree, 
their  own  weakness ;  but  as  this  invasion  was  again  baf 
fled  and  defeated  :t  was  reserved  for  a  subsequent  day 
of  danger,  to  reveal  the  full  extent  of  the  evil  from  the 
sources  indicated. 

The  fall  of  Georgia  afforded  the  British  general  a 
point  tfappui  whence  he  could  more  easily  operate 
upon  the  sister-colony.  Florida,  always  in  his  posses- 


SIEGE    OF    CHARLESTON.  113 

sion,  was  another  mean  of  annoyance  to  South  Carolina. 
Here  harbored  all  the  fugitives  who  had  been  driven 
forth  in  consequence  of  their  uncompromising  hostility 
to  the  popular  movement.  A  fruitless  but  expensive  at 
tempt  to  invade  Florida  —  an  attempt  not  more  profitable 
in  its  results,  to  recover  Georgia — contributed  greatly 
to  diminish  the  resources  of  Carolina  in  the  personnel 
and  materiel  of  war.  The  bloody  conflict  in  the  attempt 
ed  storm  of  Savannah,  had  fallen  heavily  on  the  Carolina 
troops,  had  diminished  her  regiments,  had  burdened  her 
with  an  excessive  debt,  arid  had  destroyed  the  value  of 
her  currency.  The  regular  regiment  of  Georgia  had 
been  destroyed,  or  was  in  captivity,  and  her  own  militia 
had  suffered  severely,  and  been  scattered  or  taken,  in 
the  latter  state  ;  surprised  in  the  charge  of  incompetent 
officers,  under  the  more  skilful  operations  of  the  invader. 
Thus  circumstanced,  she  was  but  feebly  prepared  to  re 
sist  the  third  and  successful  attempt  of  the  British  gen- 
eral-in-chief  to  obtain  firm  foothold  in  her  soil. 

Charleston,  besieged  by  a  vastly  superior  force  of  the 
enemy,  under  Sir  Henry  Clinton  himself,  succumbed,  after 
a  siege  of  nearly  two  months.  The  defence  had  been 
as  well  conducted  and  maintained  as  was  possible  by  an 
inadequate  body  of  troops,  threatened  at  once  by  pesti 
lence  and  famine,  and  worn  out  by  unremitting  duties  in 
the  field.  By  this  surrender,  five  thousand  soldiers  of  the 
southern  army  were  lost,  temporarily,  to  the  pressing 
wants  of  the  country.  Nor  was  this  the  only  loss.  It 
involved  others  quite  as  heavy  and  important.  While 
the  leaguer  of  the  city  had  been  continued,  detached  bod 
ies  of  the  southern  militia  had  still  kept  the  field.  This 
measure  had  for  its  object  the  maintenance  of  free  com 
munication  between  the  seaboard  and  the  interior.  It 
was  unfortunate  that  this  division  of  the  strength  of  the 
state  left  neither  that  portion  assigned  to  the  garrison,  nor 


114  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

that  which  kept  the  field,  in  sufficient  strength  for  safety. 
With  the  fall  of  the  city,  and  even  before  that  event,  tho 
British  began  to  cut  off,  in  detail,  the  scattered  bodies 
of  militia  —  effecting  a  series  of  surprises,  which,  where 
the  disparity  of  military  discipline  and  experience  was 
so  great  as  between  these  parties,  was  not,  perhaps,  of 
difficult  achievement.  The  massacre  usually  followed 
the  surprise ;  and,  with  their  capital  city  overthrow  n, 
their  regular  army  made  captive,  their  allies  dispersed, 
their  own  militia  cut  up  in  scattered  squadrons,  without 
being  permitted  to  unite  —  witji  the  loyalists  rising  eve 
rywhere  around  them,  encouraged  by  the  presence  of  a 
powerful  ally,  and  eager  now,  and  active  in  due  degree 
with  the  apathy  and  caution  which  they  had  hitherto 
been  compelled  to  show  —  it  was,  perhaps,  not  surprising 
that  the  whigs  of  Carolina  yielded  for  a  time  to  fortune, 
and  lay,  perdu,  in  waiting  for  a  better  moment.  But 
they  did  not  wait  long,  or  without  a  hope.  The  ap 
proach  of  the  continental  army  under  Grates,  however 
feeble,  once  more  provoked  their  activity  and  stimulated 
their  enterprise.  Already,  however,  had  their  own  par 
tisan  leaders —  since  grown  famous  —  taken  the  field. 
Sumter,  Marion,  Pickens,  and  others,  had  already  com 
menced  that  brilliant  career  which  showed  the  soldiers 
of  the  south  to  be  particularly  fitted  for  guerilla  warfare ; 
and  these,  with  the  arrival  of  Gates,  were  prepared  to 
co-operate  with  him,  by  demonstrations  happily  directed 
to  divert  the  attention  of  the  enemy,  and  to  distract  his 
purposes.  The  very  hour  of  Gates's  defeat  was  distin 
guished  by  a  brilliant  affair  of  Sumter,  in  which,  but 
for  the  absence  of  that  caution  which  is  taught  alone  by 
a  veteran  experience  in  war,  his  success  would  have 
been  complete,  and  would  have  made  partial  amends  for 
the  catastrophe  atCamden.  Even  after  that  catastrophe 
had  taken  place,  it  was  for  Marion  to  dart  out  suddenly 


WAR    IN    CAROLINA.  115 

from  his  swamps,  in  the  very  moment  of  the  British  tri 
umph,  and  to  rescue  from  their  clutches  a  Iarg6  body  of 
their  prisoners.  These  were  proofs  that  the  spirit  and 
enterprise  of  Carolina  were  unsubdued  by  her  misfor 
tunes,  whatever  might  be  her  deficiencies  of  physical 
strength.  But  her  contest  lay  not  entirely  with  the  inva 
der.  Had  this  been  the  case,  she  had  probably  been 
quite  equal  to  her  own  defence,  without  needing  succor 
from  her  sisters.  Unhappily,  the  causes  already  men 
tioned,  raised  an  army  within  her  own  limits,  which  was 
hostile  to  her  independence.  Rising  in  their  several  dis 
tricts,  the  loyalists  took  ample  vengeance  for  their  pre 
vious  quiet  and  forbearance.  A  civil  war  raged  in  the 
country,  of  so  desperate  a  nature,  as  to  lead  Greene, 
when  describing  it,  to  say  that  the  people  pursued  each 
other  like  wild  beasts  rather  than  like  men.  Such  is 
usually  the  character  of  civil  war.  The  whole  state  was 
thus  rendered  the  arena  for  unrelenting  conflict;  and, 
preying  upon  each  other  with  a  sleepless  ferocity,  there 
were  but  few  hands  to  oppose  to  those  of  the  national 
invader.  The  British  looked  on  grimly,  glad  of  a  strug 
gle  which  relieved  them  from  many  of  the  toils  of  war; 
and  were  content  to  leave  to  their  auxiliaries,  the  loyal 
ists,  the  work  of  massacre,  while  they  quietly  possessed 
themselves  of  its  fruits.  It  was  not  the  least  of  the  mer 
its  of  the  Carolina  partisan  generals,  that  they  could  de 
tach  from  petty  broils,  and  neighborhood  conflict,  any 
body  of  citizens,  and  rally  them,  with  single  aim,  for  the 
great  busines  of  national  deliverance.  That  they  should 
still  keep  alive  the  spirit  of  patriotism,  in  the  midst  of 
civil  war,  with  a  powerful  enemy  standing  by  to  sustain 
the  domestic  factions  by  which  the  movement  was  op 
posed,  was  in  itself  conclusive  that  the  state  might  be 
rescued  from  foreign  clutches,  with  only  a  respectable 
forco  of  regulars,  upon  which  to  fall  back  and  rally,  and 


116          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

to  which  to  look  for  support  and  succor  against  any  over- 
whelming  efforts  of  the  foe.  To  have  continued  the  con 
flict,  by  the  native  militia  alone,  so  long  under  the  walled 
places  of  the  British,  and  with  their  troops  everywhere 
in  the  field,  was  to  afford  the  most  encouraging  hopes 
that,  in  the  end,  the  latter  must  be  driven  from  their  con 
quests.  For  such  a  warfare,  perhaps,  no  general  was 
better  endowed  by  nature,  or  prepared  by  training,  than 
Greene.  Patient,  vigilant,  collected  —  never  so  eager 
for  success,  as  to  overlook  the  necessary  means  for  ob 
taining  it  —  never  so  sanguine  of  victory  as  to  forget  the 
caprices  of  fortune,  and  the  uncertain  moods  which  usu 
ally  mark  an  untrained  soldier — circumspect  and  cau 
tious,  in  the  last  degree — he  was,  perhaps,  the  best  cap 
tain  in  the  world  to  restrain  and  regulate  the  raw  troops 
whom  he  had  to  manage  —  to  curb  their  impetuosity, 
methodize  their  valor,  and  make  them  habitually  provide 
against  surprise. 

Greene  did  not  close  his  eyes  against  the  difficulties 
which  now  rose  up  in  his  path  at  every  moment.  He 
found  himself,  on  taking  command  of  the  army,  sustained 
by  few  encouragements.  The  army  itself  was  a  skel 
eton  —  the  mere  wreck  of  an  army  —  few  in  numbers, 
without  clothing,  arms,  or  ammunition.  It  counted  but 
nine  hundred  and  seventy  continentals,  and  one  thousand 
and  thirteen  militia.  This  was  the  force  which  he 
found  awaiting  him  at  Charlotte.  There  was  a  smaller 
force,  but  better  provided,  serving  as  an  independent 
command  under  Morgan,  which  had  been  detached  by 
Gates,  and  was  now  actually  operating  in  South  Caro 
lina,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  British  garrison 
at  Camden.  This  force  consisted  of  four  companies, 
which  had  been  drafted  from  the  regiments  to  serve  as 
light  infantry;  a  body  of  seventy  cavalry,  under  Colonel 
Washington;  and  a  small  corps  of  sixty  rifles,  unde* 


RELATIVE    STRENGTH    OF    THE    ARMIES.  117 

Major  Rose.  We  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  this 
command  hereafter.  "With  his  army  weak  and  ill  pro 
vided,  Greene  found  himself  among  friends  who  were 
too  much  abashed  by  ill  fortune  and  inferior  means,  to 
be  confident  themselves  in  hope,  or  to  encourage  him  to 
boldness.  His  enemies,  on  the  other  hand,  warmed  with 
continued  victories,  were  flushed  with  exultation,  and 
swarming,  in  the  confidence  of  numbers,  on  every  side. 
When  he  looked  toward  South  Carolina,  the  region 
which  he  was  to  penetrate,  he  found  it  everywhere  over 
awed  by  British  garrisons.  Its  strong  points  were  every 
where  seized  upon  and  fortified.  Lord  Cornwallis  had 
planted  himself,  with  the  main  body  of  his  army,  at 
Winnsborough.  This  post  enabled  him  to  complete  his 
chain  of  fortified  places,  "from  Georgetown  to  Augusta, 
in  a  circle,  the  centre  of  which  would  have  been  about 
Beaufort,  in  South  Carolina,  equidistant  from  Charles 
ton  and  Savannah.  These  posts  consisted  of  George 
town,  Camden,  Winnsborough,  Ninety-Six,  and  Augusta. 
Within  this  circle  was  an  interior  chain,  at  the  distance 
of  about  half  the  radius,  consisting  of  Fort  Watson  on 
the  road  to  Camden,  Motte's  house  and  Granby  on  the 
Congaree.  Dorchester  and  Orangeburg,  on  the  road  both 
to  Ninety-Six  and  Granby,  were  fortified  as  posts  of 
rest  and  deposite  on  the  line  of  communication  ;  as  was 
Monk's  Corner,  or  Biggin  church,  and  some  other  small 
posts  on  that  to  Camden."  These  posts  were  all  judi 
ciously  chosen,  at  once  for  procuring  supplies,  maintain 
ing  communications,  and  overawing  the  country.  The 
British  army  was  divided  among  these  several  places,  on 
the  assumption  by  Gretne  of  the  charge  of  the  debris  of 
the  southern  army.  They  consisted  of  something  more 
than  five  thousand  men,  and  employed  themselves,  at  all 
these  posts,  in  recruiting  from  the  tory  settlements  —  a 
business  ir  which  they  were  uncommonly 


118  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Their  strength  underwent  a  large  increase  on  the  arrival 
of  Greene,  being  reinforced  by  a  force  of  nearly  threo 
thousand  men,  under  General  Leslie,  who  was,  in  conse 
quence,  diverted  from  Virginia  to  Charleston  ;  thus  pre 
senting  an  overwhelming  preponderance  of  force  against 
the  American  general,  which  it  was  difficult  to  meet. 

But  Greene's  mind  —  calm,  equable,  well-trained,  and 
executive  —  quickly  rose  to  the  exigency  before  it.  To 
ascertain  the  wants  of  his  men,  and  to  cast  about  for  the 
sources  of  supply,  were  joint  operations  of  the  same 
thought.  Clothing,  in  particular,  was  the  great  necessity. 
The  nakedness  of  the  soldiers  was  the  first  impressive 
fact  that  met  his  eyes.  Many  of  them  could  not  be  seen 
on  parade,  and  were  actually  ordered  back  to  their 
homes  on  this  account.  Of  those  who  did  appear,  the 
ludicrous  exhibition  of  shreds  and  patches,  odds  and 
ends,  of  uniforms  and  old  clothes,  made  a  variety,  to 
which  no  display  of  a  mock  military  could,  possibly,  do 
justice.  The  munitions  of  war  were  equally  wanting, 
and  the  magazines  were  as  bare  as  the  soldiers.  Nor 
were  there  means  in  the  military  chest  to  procure  sup 
plies,  even  if  they  had  been  within  reach  of  purchase ; 
and  it  was  with  great  difficulty,  and  only  by  the  most 
excellent  management,  that  provisions,  from  day  to  day, 
were  procured  for  the  support  of  the  army.  The  quar 
termaster's  department  was  in  quite  as  bad  condition. 
Greene's  experience  in  this  department  enabled  him, 
readily,  to  appreciate  his  deficiencies,  though  it  afforded 
him  some  advantages,  perhaps,  in  suggesting  the  means 
for  meeting  them.  But  here,  again,  the  same  painful 
conflict  was  to  be  carried  on  for  months,  and  possibly 
for  years,  to  encounter  necessities  without  resources, 
and  furnish  material  without  the  means  ;  to  live  by  shifts 
and  expedients,  striving  day  by  day,  with  an  eternal 
auxisty,  doubtful  what  the  day  will  biing  forth,  and  igno- 


OFFICERS    OF    THE    SOUTHERN    ARMY.  119 

rant  of  the  sources  which  shall  provide  for  the  exigencies 
of  the  morrow.  Without  a  market,  or  money  with 
which  to  enter  it — without  the  present  means  for  trans 
porting  supplies  —  and  with  an  army  constantly  craving, 
and  as  constantly  required  to  serve  in  spite  of  craving, 
the  genius  of  the  best  general  in  the  world  might  have 
succumbed  beneath  his  anxieties,  unless  supported  by 
a  generous  faith,  that  hopes  everything  in  a  right  cause, 
and  from  a  steady  compliance  with  the  requisitions  of 
country  and  duty. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Greene  that  he  was  consoled  and 
strengthened  against  these  trials  and  anxieties,  by  the 
support  and  society  of  some  of  the  most  select  and 
noble  spirits  in  the  army.  His  officers  were  the  picked 
men  of  the  country  —  brave,  enterprising,  full  of  expe 
dients,  resolute,  generous,  and  ardent  in  their  sympathies. 
Morgan,  famous  as  a  partisan,  distinguished  at  Quebec 
and  Saratoga ;  Otho  Williams,  who  had  been  chiefly 
instrumental  in  saving  the  wreck  of  Gates's  army;  Lee 
and  Washington,  renowned  for  the  spirit  and  enterprise 
which  marked  their  respective  characters  and  commands; 
Kosciusko,  a  chief  of  European  fame,  and  one  of  the 
best  engineers  in  the  service.  These,  in  their  several 
departments,  were  scarcely  to  be  equalled ;  and,  with 
Carrington  in  the  quartermaster's,  and  Davies  in  the 
commissariat  department,  it  may  be  reasonably  sup 
posed  that  everything  which  might  be  done  by  mortal 
ability,  under  like  circumstances,  must  be  within  the 
province  of  his  performance.  When,  to  these  aids  and 
allies,  we  add  the  names  of  such  partisan  officers,  among 
the  militia,  as  have  never  been  surpassed  —  Marion, 
Sumter,  Pickens,  Henderson,  and  others  —  we  may  natu 
rally  look  for  achievements,  of  as  much  enterprise  and 
Jaring  as  belong  to  the  fortunes  of  any  fighting  irrny 
among  any  people. 


120  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Th'6  region  of  country  in  which  he  was  to  act,  required 
the  very  best,  and  the  most  various,  military  capacity , 
Uwlike  the  north,  it  was  a  region  in  which  the  vicissitudes 
were  equally  sudden  and  extreme.  In  the  north,  the 
fields  of  controversy  were  few;  the  chief  points  of 
progress  obvious;  the  means  of  communication  ready ; 
the  game  always  tolerably  apparent  to  the  least  skilful 
strategist.  There,  the  population  was  dense,  and  intel 
ligence  was  transmitted  with  great  rapidity.  For  the 
same  reason,  the  means  of  sustenance  were  more  readily 
furnished,  and  particularly  where  the  military  chest  was 
more  amply  supplied  with  the  means  of  payment,  than 
was  the  case  when  the  war  was  transferred  to  the  south. 
In  most  respects,  the  theatre  of  action  in  the  latter  region 
was  totally  unlike  that  of  the  north.  Here,  the  popula 
tion  was  sparsely  settled ;  the  country,  in  large  tracts, 
desolate  and  unproductive ;  the  roads  few ;  the  forests 
unbroken ;  the  swamps  impassable  ;  the  rivers  liable  to 
frequent  overflow ;  foraging  remote  and  difficult ;  intel 
ligence  slow  to  arrive;  the  people  nearly  equally  divided 
in  opinion  —  implacable  and  fierce  in  their  resentments  — 
always  restless,  and  always  suspicious  accordingly;  and 
the  circumstances,  taken  together,  of  such  a  sort,  as  to 
leave  an  army  at  no  moment  perfectly  secure  from  a 
capital  disaster. 

It  was  the  peculiar  faculty  of  Greene,  to  study  care 
fully  the  scene  of  action,  and  to  adopt  his  policy  to  its 
conditions.  His  explorations  of  the  country  were  singu 
larly  searching  and  thorough.  Under  his  requisitions, 
the  Dan  was  surveyed  by  Carrington,  the  Yadkin  by 
General  Stevens,  and  the  Catawba  by  Kosciusko ;  and 
these  surveys,  which  he  thus  commanded,  are  supposed 
to  be  the  first  which  ever  revealed,  to  any  extent,  the 
characteristics  of  the  several  rivers.  They  proved,  in 
the  sequel,  of  immense  importance  to  the  progress  of  his 


DISCIPLINE    OF    THE    ARMY.  121 

arms.  Magazines  were  established  at  the  head  of  the 
Catawba,  by  which  he  brought  the  means  of  sub 
sistence  more  immediately  within  the  line  which  ho 
had  fixed  upon  as  the  base  of  his  operations.  Ho 
renewed  his  entreaties  to  the  authorities  of  the  several 
srates  within  his  province,  urging  the  necessity  of-immo- 
diate  supplies,  and  the  most  energetic  exertions,  for  the 
future.  He  counselled,  in  the  embodiment  of  the  militia, 
that  resort  should  be  had  to  the  draught,  in  preference  to 
any  other  form  of  proceeding ;  and,  in  his  letters  on  this 
subject  and  others,  employs  a  tone,  and  throws  out  sug 
gestions,  which  have  for  their  object  something  beyond  the 
matters  which  they  immediately  discuss.  In  plain  terms, 
he  seeks  to  prepare  the  several  governments,  which  he 
-addresses,  for  that  more  decisive  exercise  of  authority 
which  he,  himself,  was  resolved  to  adopt  in  the  conduct 
of  the  war.  It  belonged  to  the  same  policy  that  he 
should  seasonably  begin  to  enforce  that  discipline  among 
his  troops,  which,  though  essential  to  their  efficiency, 
had  yet  been,  hitherto,  disregarded.  It  had  been  the 
custom  of  the  troops  to  come  and  go,  almost  at  pleasure  ; 
to  retire  to  their  homes  without  leave,  and  to  stay  with 
out  limit.  For  this  offence  he  assigned  the  penalty  of 
death,  and  rigidly  enforced  it.  The  first  offender,  after 
the  practice  had  been  forbidden,  was  made  a  summary 
example,  being  shot  at  the  head  of  the  army,  which  was 
drawn  out  to  witness  the  painful  spectacle.  It  was  a 
terrible  lesson,  but  one  rendered  necessary  by  a  due 
regard  to  discipline. 

From  his  camp  at  Charlotte,  Greene  prepared  to  draw 
nigher  to  the  scene  of  moie  active  operations.  The  duty 
of  selecting  a  camp  of  watch  and  repose;  where,  without 
slumbering,  the  army  could  yet  be  tolerably  secure  ;  and 
where,  without  engaging  in  conflict,  they  could  yet  be 
kept  constantly  reminded  of  the  necessity  of  preparing 


122  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

for  it;  —  was  confided  to  Kosciusko.  The  spot  was  cho 
sen  at  the  junction  of  Hick's  creek  with  the  Great  Pee 
Dee,  and  here  the  army  arrived  on  the  26th  of  December. 
On  the  same  day  that  the  army  was  put  under  marching 
orders  for  this  point,  the  detachment  under  Morgan  was 
ordered  to  cross  the  Catawba,  and  approach  the  position 
of  Lord  Cornwallis  at  Winnsborough.  Speaking  of 
his  new  camp,  the  object  of  his  movement,  and  the  ad 
vantages  derived  from  it,  we  gather  the  following  sum 
mary  from  Greene  himself:  "  I  am  here  in  my  camp  of 
repose,  improving  the  discipline  and  spirits  of  my  men 
and  the  opportunity  for  looking  about  me.  I  am  well 
satisfied  with  this  movement,  for  it  has  answered  thus 
far  all  the  purposes  for  which  I  intended  it.  It  makej 
the  most  of  my  inferior  force,  for  it  compels  my  adversary 
to  divide  his,  and  holds  him  in  doubt  as  to  his  own  line  of 
conduct.  He  can  not  leave  Morgan  behind  him  to  come 
at  me,  or  his  posts  of  Ninety-Six  and  Augusta  would  be 
exposed.  And  he  can  not  chase  Morgan  far,  or  prose 
cute  his  views  upon  Virginia  while  I  am  here  with  the 
whole  country  open  before  me.  I  am  as  near  to  Charles 
ton  as  he  is,  and  as  near  to  Hillsborough  as  I  was  at  Char 
lotte  ;  so  that  I  am  in  no  danger  of  being  cut  off  from  my 
reinforcements,  while  an  uncertainty  as  to  my  future  de 
signs  has  made  it  necessary  to  leave  a  large  detachment, 
of  the  enemy's  late  reinforcements  in  Charleston,  and 
move  the  rest  up  on  this  side  the  Wateree.  But,  although 
there  is  nothing  to  obstruct  my  march  to  Charleston,  I 
am  far  from  having  such  a  design  in  contemplation,  in 
the  present  relative  positions  and  strength  of  the  two  ar 
mies.  It  would  be  putting  it  in  the  power  of  my  enemy 
to  compel  me  to  fight  him.  At  present  my  operations 
must  be  in  the  country  where  the  rivers  are  fordable,  and 
to  guard  against  the  chance  of  not  being  able  to  choose 
my  ground.  .  .  .  Below  the  falls  [of  Pee  Dee],  all  through 


CONDITION    OF    THE    COUNTRY.  123 

this  country,  From  the  Allegany  to  the  seacoast,  and  from 
the  Chesapeake  to  Georgia,  the  country  is  champaign, 
and  presenting  no  passes  that  can  be  held  by  an  inferior 
force.  The  rivers  are  deep,  and  their  banks  covered  with 
impassable  swamps,  across  which,  at  long  intervals,  roads 
have  been  constructed,  which  afford  the  or.ly  avenues  of 
retreat.  I  can  not  venture  to  get  entangled  among  the 
difficulties  they  present,  until  I  can  turn  upon  my  enemy 
arid  fight  him  when  I  please." 

Thus,  of  the  objects  and  advantages  of  his  position. 
Hear  him  now,  in  the  same  breath,  on  the  subject  of  his 
condition  and  resources  :  "  I  find  the  difficulties  of  sub 
sisting  an  army  far  beyond  all  anticipation.  Even 
here,  where  the  inhabitants  are  generally  well  disposed, 
they  will  not  gather  in  their  crops  from  the  field,  because 
depositing  their  grain  in  their  barns  exposes  it  to  be 
seized  by  their  friends  or  burnt  by  their  enemies.  It  is 
hard  to  stand  so  much  in  need  of  friends,  and  be  com 
pelled  to  subsist  ourselves  by  means  so  well  calculated 
to  convert  friends  into  enemies.  But  we  have  not  a  shil 
ling  of  money,  and  must  collect  subsistence  by  force,  or 
disband.  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  learning  the  force 
of  the  loyalists  in  these  states,  and  the  parts  of  the  coun 
try  in  which  they  reside,  and  their  numbers  and  zeal  pre 
sent  a  formidable  obstacle  to  our  future  measures.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  whig  population  has  been  greatly  re 
duced  by  the  numbers  that  have  fied  from  the  distress 
that  friends  and  foes  have  heaped  on  them.  The  enemy 
are  now  recruiting  in  all  parts  of  this  state,  and  the  com 
mand  of  gold,  aided  by  the  public  distress  and  loyal  feel 
ing,  has  been  too  successful  in  promoting  the  project  of 
making  one  conquest  the  stepping-stone  to  another.  At 
present  they  are  in  possession  of  all  the  fertile  and  popu 
lous  parts  of  South  Carolina,  arid  until  circumstances 
will  admit  of  my  penetrating  into  the  heart  of  the  couiv 


124          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

try,  to  meet  and  fight  him,  we  shall  have  to  operate  in  a 
country  that  has  been  exhausted  and  depopulated  by  the 
swarms  of  mounted  militia  that  have  been  impoverishing 
rather  than  defending  it.  Yet  I  should  feel  no  appre 
hensions  for  the  event,  had  I  a  prospect  of  being  sup- 
porte-3  by  a  permanent  force.  But  North  Carolina  La3 
not  a  man  on  foot,  and  Virginia  only  a  few  raw  and  na 
ked  troops,  and  those  enlisted  for  a  short  time.  The  fine 
troops  of  Maryland  and  Delaware,  enlisted  for  the  war, 
are  now  reduced,  comparatively,  to  a  handful,  and  Gen 
eral  Gist  gives  me  no  hope  of  an  .early  reinforcement 
from  that  quarter.  North  Carolina  seems  disposed  to 
assist  us,  but  her  councils  are  so  distracted  that  I  can 
not  hope  much  from  her  efforts.  The  whigs  will  not 
serve  unless  the  tories  are  compelled,  and  the  tories  are 
too  strong  to  be  driven,  or,  if  forced  to  take  the  field,  will 
run  away,  desert,  or  betray  us.  Virginia,  without  money 
and  wixhout  credit,  I  fear  can  do  little  more  ;  and  in  both 
states,  militia  substitutes  are  too  much  in  demand  to  leave 
materials  for  enlisting  an  army,  except  for  very  limited 
periods." 

These  extracts  will  afford  a  sufficient  idea  of  the  kind 
and  extent  of  the  embarrassments  which  beset  the  com 
mander  of  the  southern  army  at  his  camp  of  repose. 
Here,  however,  he  was  now  joined  by  the  long-expected 
legion  of  Colonel  Lee,  from  Virginia,  a  fine  body,  equally 
made  up  of  horse  and  foot,  admirably  equipped,  of  three 
hundred  men.  At  the  same  time,  and  from  the  same 
quarter,  came  Colonel  Greene,  with  a  body  of  four  hun 
dred  recruits.  A  thousand  more  recruits  had  been  raised 
in  Virginia,  but  they  could  not  be  sent  into  the  field,  from 
very  nakedness.  Those  who  were  sent,  though  march 
ing  in  th«  depth  of  winter,  were  clad  only  in  summer 
garments  of  the  meanest  description,  and  chiefly  made 
of  linen. 


MORGAN'S    OPERATIONS.  12 

The  arrival  of  Lee  at  the  camp  on  the  Pee  Dee,  ena 
bled  Greene  to  attempt  an  expedition  which  he  had  con 
templated  before.  This  was  an  enterprise  against 
Georgetown,  one  of  a  series  in  which  the  enemy  should 
be  struck  at  in  detail,  in  which  Lee  should  operate  in 
conjunction  with  Marion.  The  famous  partisan  had  been 
busy  all  the  while,  in  his  particular  way  and  province. 
Morgan  and  Marion  were  in  motion  about  the  same  time. 
The  former,  not  strong  enough  to  attempt  the  post  at 
Winnsborough,  contented  himself  with  keeping  Lord 
Cornwallis  anxious  about  its  safety,  while  achieving  some 
small  surprises  against  the  tories  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Ninety-Six.  Marion,  having  Lee  with  him,  succeeded 
measurably  in  the  attempt  on  Georgetown.  The  place 
was  surprised,  but,  from  a  failure  of  proper  concert  be 
tween  the  assailing  parties,  and  the  want  of  artillery,  it 
was  not  in  their  power  to  retain  it,  or  to  gather  the  best 
results  from  the  advantages  which  had  been  won. 

The  attempt  upon  this  post,  to  be  followed  up  by  oth 
ers,  had  for  its  object  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  enemy 
from  Morgan  to  the  danger  of  his  garrisons  in  the  low 
country.  The  surprise  of  Georgetown  was  not,  accord 
ingly,  a  simple  coup  de  main,  but  a  first  step  in  the  pros 
ecution  of  a  great  plan  which  should  fetter  the  enterprise 
of  the  British  general,  distract  his  regards,  and  prevent 
him  from  that  contemplated  march  upon  Virginia,  from 
Carolina,  which  now  constituted  the  leading  policy  with 
Cornwallis.  To  detain  him  in  North  Carolina,  until  an 
army  of  sufficient  strength  and  discipline  could  be  raised 
to  encounter  him,  was  the  design  and  desire  of  Greene. 
The  measures  pursued  for  this  purpose,  soon  began  to 
disturb  the  /epose  of  Cornwallis,  and  to  compel  his  at- 
.ention  to  the  course  of  Morgan. 

The  latter,  meanwhile,  had  taken  post  on  the  banks  of 
the  Pacolet,  where  he  was  pined  by  a  considerable  body 


126          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

of  the  militia  of  the  Carolinas.  He  had  scarcely  made 
.his  appearance  in  the  neighborhood  before  be  had  an  op 
portunity  of  striking  at  a  strong  body  of  loyalists  who 
had  advanced  from  the  Sa'vannah  to  the  Fair  Forest.  He 
sent  Colonel  Washington,  with  his  cavalry,  and  a  couple 
of  hundred  mounted  militia  under  Colonel  M'Call,  who, 
by  rapid  riding,  came  upon  them  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Ninety-Six,  and  struck  at  them  with  such  emphasis  as  to 
kill  two  thirds  of  their  numbei.  The  surprise  was  com 
plete,  and  the  punishment  sufficiently  sanguinary.  Avail 
ing  himself  of  the  fact  that  his  appearance  was  totally 
unexpected  in  a  neighborhood  which  swarmed  with  en 
emies,  arid  was  covered  by  a  strong  British  post,  he  suc 
ceeded  in  the  attempt  to  surprise  the  stockade  fort  of 
General  Cunningham,  and  to  scatter  the  garrison.  These 
enterprises,  almost  at  his  threshold,  disquieted  Cornwal- 
lis,  whose  light  troops  and  cavalry,  under  Tarleton,  were 
then  unprofitably  urging  the  pursuit  of  Sumter,  after  the 
battle-field  of  Blackstocks.  Cornwallis  felt  the  evil  moral 
influences  of  such  audacity  on  the  part  of  the  Americans, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  direct  injury  to  the  service,  in  the 
slaughter  of  auxiliaries  and  the  cutting  off  of  his  sup 
plies.  Tarleton,  accordingly,  received  his  orders  to 
"  push  Morgan  to  the  utmost."  To  enable  him  to  do  so, 
to  effectual  purpose,  Cornwallis  divided  his  forces  with 
him,  intending,  while  Tarleton  either  destroyed  Morgan, 
or  drove  him  out  of  the  state,  which  he  thought  most 
likely,  to  move  forward  rapidly  himself,  and,  throwing 
himself  across  the  path  of  the  American  general,  cut  him 
off  from  his  place  of  retreat,  and  compel  him  to  surren 
der.  Leslie,  meanwhile,  with  another  body  of  troops, 
was  to  march  up  the  east  side  of  the  Catawba,  and  inter 
pose  to  prevent  Greene  from  doing  anything  for  the  sup 
port  of  his  brigades. 

But,  events  are  not  within  human  calculation.     They 


TARLETON    PURSUES    MORGAN.  127 

were  destined  to  disappoint  the  plans  of  the  English 
general.  Tarleton  obeyed  the  commands  of  his  superior 
with  due  diligence  ;  and,  with  his  usual  celerity,  set  forth 
in  pursuit  of  Morgan.  He  had  with  him,  in  this  pursuit, 
about  eleven  hundred  men,  five  hundred  of  whom  con 
stituted  that  formidable  legion  which  had  hitherto  trav 
ersed  the  country  with  almost  unvarying  success.  His 
field-pieces  were  served  by  a  detachment  of  the  royal 
artillery.  Morgan's  force  did  not  quite  equal  this  in 
numbers,  consisting,  in  all,  of  nine  hundred  and  seventy 
men,  of  whom  six  hundred  were  militia.  But  these 
militia  were  now  somewhat  experienced,  and  they  were 
under  leaders,  such  as  Pickens  and  M'Call,  in  whom 
they  had  the  utmost  confidence,  and  who  knew  exactly 
how  to  manage  them.  Still,  the  superiority  in  artillery 
and  cavalry,  was  too  greatly  with  Tarleton  to  render  it 
prudent  to  await  his  encounter ;  and,  very  loath  to  do 
BO,  Morgan  retired  at  his  approach.  The  pursuit  was 
commenced  on  the  12th  of  January,  1781.  Morgan 
might  have  escaped  his  pursuer ;  but  he  really  had  no 
desire  to  do  so — was  chock  full  of  fight,  and  only  desired 
to  find  for  his  mood  a  proper  field  and  fitting  opportunity. 
In  this  temper  of  mind,  as  may  be  supposed,  it  was  not 
difficult  for  Tarleton  —  with  whom,  hitherto,  in  the  plen 
itude  of  good  fortune,  it  had  been  only  to  see  to  con 
quer — "  to  bring  him  to  the  scratch."  The  American 
brigadier  awaited  his  enemy  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thicketty. 

Believing  that  Morgan  was  only  solicitous  to  escape, 
and  resolved  upon  the  honors  of  a  coup  de  main,  Tarle 
ton  pushed  forward  precipitately  on  the  17th  of  January, 
and  came  upon  the  Americans  —  not  in  the  huiry  and 
confusion  of  a  flight,  but  coolly  posted,  with  the  break 
fast  things  just  removed,  and  every  man  ready,  refreshed 
by  a  hearty  morning  meal,  and  not  averse  to  a  very 


128  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

different  encounter.  The  British  were  fatigued  by  a  five 
hours'  march,  the  troops  of  Morgan  refreshed  by  a  rest  of 
quite  the  same  duration,  to  say  nothing  of  the  breakfast 
But  Tarleton,  flattered  by  frequent  successes,  and, in  some 
degree,  the  spoiled  child  of  fortune,  was  not  the  man  to 
wait.  Morgan  gave  him  advantages  which,  had  he  been 
another  sort  of  enemy,  his  prudence  would  have  scarcely 
yielded.  His  ground  was  upon  an  eminence,  gently 
ascending  for  three  or  four  hundred  yards,  and  covered 
with  an  open  wood.  On  the  crown  of  this  eminence  he 
posted  the  Maryland  regulars,  nearly  three  hundred  in 
number;  in  line,  on  their  right,  two  companies  of  Vir 
ginia  militia,  and  a  corps  of  Georgians  :  making,  in  all, 
some  four  hundred  and  thirty  men.  This  line,  which 
was  the  rear,  was  commanded  by  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Howard.  A  body  of  picked  Carolina  militia,  nearly 
three  hundred  in  number,  commanded  by  Pickens,  was 
posted,  in  open  order,  some  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
in  advance  of  the  line  of  Howard  ;  and,  in  front  of  these, 
was  another  body  of  militiamen,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
more,  scattered,  as  riflemen,  loosely  along  the  whole  front. 
These  had  their  particular  duties  assigned  them,  suf- 
ciently  understood  in  the  words  that  passed  among 
themselves  —  "  Mark  the  epaulettes  !"  and  admirably  did 
they  mark  them.  It  was  by  this  process,  only,  that  Mor 
gan  could  equalize  the  superiority  of  the  enemy,  derived 
from  his  greater  strength  in  cavalry,  and  the  presence 
of  his  artillery,  of  which  the  Americans  had  none.  The 
American  reserve,  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  con 
sisted  of  Washington's  and  M'C  all's  cavalry,  and  was 
posted  behind  an  eminence  in  the  rear  of  the  second 
line. 

Tarleton's  attempt  to  reconnoitre  was  foiled  by  the 
fatal  discharges  of  the  scattered  riflemen.  His  cavalry 
advanced,  accordingly,  and  drove  them  into  the  first  line. 


BATTLE    OP    THE    COWPENS.  129 

but  not  until  they  had  taught  their  enemy  to  tremble 
unner  the  keen  close  aim  and  destructive  fire  of  then 
rifles.  Steadily  advancing  under  the  fire  of  his  artillery, 
Tarleton  pressed  forward.  The  militia  under  Pickens, 
commanded  to  deliver  their  fire  at  fifty  yards,  coolly 
awaited  the  British  approach,  and  obeyed  their  instruc 
tions  to  the  letter.  "  Here,"  according  to  the  admission 
of  an  officer  in  the  Maryland  line,  "  the  battle  was 
gained."  So  terrible  a  fire  as  met  the  advancing  enemy, 
has  seldom  been  delivered  on  the  field  of  battle.  The 
officers,  in  particular,  paid  dearly  for  the  epaulettes  they 
wore  ;  while  a'liberal  proportion  of  the  troops  by  whom 
they  were  followed,  bit  the  dust  in  company  with  then- 
gallant  leaders.  The  service  done  which  was  required 
at  their  hands  —  for  it  was  not  expected  that  they  should 
stand  the  charge  of  the  bayonet — the  militia  yielded  to 
the  pressure  of  the  enemy's  battle,  and  left  the  way  open 
to  the  second  line.  The  shouts  of  the  British  declared 
their  confidence  in  the  affair  as  in  a  battle  already  won, 
and  hurried  forward  in  a  degree  of  disorder,  which  soon 
betrayed  the  evil  consequence,  to  their  ranks,  of  the  loss 
which  they  had  sustained  in  officers.  The  fire  of  the 
second  line  opened  upon  them,  and  staggered  them  while 
they  were  thus  disordered,  and,  for  nearly  thirty  minutes, 
it  was  maintained  with  constancy  and  serious  effect. 
Still,  the  assailing  column  advanced,  striving  to  dress  and 
move  steadily  forward  to  the  charge;  but  with  so  mud 
hesitation,  that  the  British  commander  was  compelled  to 
bring  the  71st  regiment  into  line  upon  his  left,  while 
his  cavalry  swept  forward  against  the  American  right. 
Morgan  perceived  the  necessity  of  guarding  his  flank. 
But  his  reserve,  under  Washington,  was  already  busy  in 
covering  the  retreating  militia,  who,  pursued  by  the 
enemy's  horse,  and  having  to  traverse  the  whole  front 
9f  the  second  line,  upon  which  they  were  ordered  to 
6* 


130  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

rally,  were,  necessarily,  greatly  exposed  to  this  danger, 
To  repulse  the  assailants,  and  to  cover  the  militia  while 
they   rallied,   was    the    work   of  a   few   moments    with 
Washington :    but,   these  moments   were  big   with  the 
issue  of  the  day.      A  retrograde  movement  of  the  con 
tinental  line,  occasioned  by   a  mistake   in  orders,  had 
nearly  lost  the  victory  so  nearly  won.      The  British  line, 
beholding  this  retrograde,  confounded  it  with  a  flight,  and 
rushed  forward  with  shouts  of  triumph,  as  to  a  victory. 
And  such  it  might  have  been,  but  for  the  fact  that,  in 
pursuing   the    enemy's    cavalry  .some    distance    beyond 
the    British    line,    Washington    had    found   their   right 
flank  entirely  exposed  to  him,  and  had  a  fair  view  of 
the  confusion  prevailing  in  their  ranks.     It  was  at  the 
lucky  moment,  when  the  retrograde  movement  of  the 
American  line  was  becoming  too  much  accelerated  for 
precision,  that  a  messenger  from  Washington  delivered 
these  few  words  :  "  They  are  coming  on  like  a  mob  ;  give 
them  a  fire,  and  I  will  charge  them."     "Face  about!" 
was  the   instant  order  along  the  line.      "  Give  them  a 
single  fire,  and  the  victory  is  ours."     Pickens,  with  his 
militia,  appeared  on  the  hill  at  this  moment,  to  unite  in 
effectual  obedience  to  this  command.      It  was  obeyed 
from  left  to  right.     With  terrible  effect  did  the  lightning 
stream  forth  from  the  levelled  muzzles,  at  the  moment 
when  their  enemies,  rapidly  rushing  forward  and  tumul- 
tuously  shouting,  were  within  thirty  paces  only.     The 
presented    bayonet   followed  up   the   fire  ;    and,  as  the 
glittering  blades  of  the  opposing  ranks  were  interlocked, 
the  British  dropped  their  weapons  and  fell  upon  their 
faces.      The  victory  was  won.     The  rifles  of  Pickens's 
militia,  and  the  sabres  of  Washington's  cavalry,  finished 
the   business  of  the   day;    and  thus   ended  the  famous 
battle  of  the  Cowpens. 

The  enemy  lost  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  killed  and 


MORGAN    VICTORIOUS.  131 

wounded,  and  four  hundred  prisoners.  Of  the  Ameri 
cans,  hut  eleven  were  killed  and  sixty-one  wounded. 
Morgan  retired  with  two  field-pieces,  eight  hundred 
muskets,  two  stands  of  colors,  thirty-five  baggage-wag 
ons,  tents,  and  ammunition,  and  one  hundred  dragoon 
horses  —  the  trophies  of  his  victory. 


Ji32  LIFE    OF    NA1HARAEL    GREENE. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Morgan's  Retreat  before  Cornwallis. — Greene  joins  him  on  tbe  Catawba- 
— Condition  of  tbe  American  Army. — Militia  collects  under  Davidson.— 
British  pass  tbe  Catawba. — Death  of  Davidson. — Morgan  retreats- 
Passes  the  Yadkin. — Skirmish  with  the  Rearguard. — Anecdote  of  Greene. 

THE  victory  of  Morgan  was  complete,  but  it  was  one 
upon  which  he  did  not  venture  to  repose.     Cornwallis, 

he  well  knew,  was  in  force,  at  a  distance  of  but  twenty- 
five  miles,  and  this  space  would  easily  be  overcome  by 
the  fugitive  cavalry  of  the  British  conveying  the  tidings 
of  their  own  disaster.  Reasoning  from  what  should  be 
done  in  such  case,  he  had  every  reason  to  suppose  that 
Cornwallis  would  put  his  whole  army  in  pursuit.  He 
halted  upon  the  battle-field,  accordingly,  only  long 
enough  to  refresh  his  men  and  secure  his  prisoners  ;  and 
hurried  across  Broad  liver  that  very  evening  leaving 
Pickens,  with  a  sufficient  detachment  of  his  mounted  mi 
litia,  to  bury  the  dead  and  provide  for  the  wounded. 
With  the  dawn  of  morning  he  was  again  upon  the  march, 
pressing,  with  all  haste,  to  throw  the  rising  waters  of  the 
Catawba  between  his  pursuers  and  himself.  Fortune, 
and  some  unnecessary  delays  on  the  part  of  Cornwallis, 
facilitated  his  objects.  Had  the  latter  set  off  in  immedi 
ate  pursuit,  discarding  all  cumbrous  baggage,  all  unne 
cessary  materiel,  the  victory  of  Morgan,  burdened  as  he 
was,  with  his  spoils  and  pursuers,  might  have  availed  him 
little.  But  one  or  more  precious  days  were  lost  by  the 
British  commander;  and,  when  he  approached  the  Cataw 
ba,  he  found  Morgan  already  on  the  opposite  side,  at  a  dis 
tance  of  twerty  miles,  with  the  river  roused  by  freshets, 


CONDITION    OF    THE    ARMY.  133 

roaring  and  swelling,  as  an  obstacle  between  them. 
Greene,  meanwhile,  apprized  of  the  victory  of  his  briga 
dier,  and  apprehensive  for  his  safety — pushed  as  he  had 
reason  to  fear  he  would  be,  by  the  utmost  exertions  of  Corn- 
wallis  —  set  out,  with  all  speed,  to  join  him.  His  efforts 
were  more  successful  than  those  of  his  enemy.  His 
celerity  of  movement  alone  saved  him  from  the  dangers 
of  a  progress  through  a  country,  almost  equally  occu 
pied  with  friends  and  foes,  which  he  traversed  for  a 
space  of  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and  almost 
without  an  escort.  He  had  put  his  army  under  march 
ing  orders,  but  felt  too  greatly  the  importance  of  being 
personally  at  the  point  of  action,  at  the  moment  of  great 
est  exigency,  to  await  their  movements.  His  hope  was, 
not  yet  to  cross  weapons  with  Cornwallis,  but  simply  to 
oppose  and  foil  his  generalship  ;  save  Morgan,  if  possible, 
and  so  hang  upon  the  skirts  of  the  enemy,  like  a  threat 
ening  thunder-cloud,  as  to  paralyze  his  enterprises  until 
the  moment  which  should  make  him  ready  for  the  fight. 
To  cross  weapons  with  Cornwallis  now,  was  quite  beyond 
his  strength.  This  was  the  conviction  that  qualified  the 
delight  which  he  felt  at  the  recent  victory.  It  was  nne 
of  which  he  could  take  no  advantage  ;  and  he  stood,  tan 
talized  with  the  opening,  which,  with  an  adequate  army, 
would  have  been  offered  him  by  the  field  of  Cowpens,  and 
the  purposeless  and  unprofitable  pursuit  of  the  British. 
His  nominal  force,  including  that  of  Morgan  and  the 
militia,  did  riot  exceed  seventeen  hundred  men ;  while 
the  strength  of  Cornwallis,  joined  by  Leslie,  must  have 
considerably  exceeded  that  number.  In  equipments, 
dress,  discipline,  and  munitions  of  war,  the  superiority  of 
the  latter  was  very  much  greater  still.  In  money,  Greene 
was  still  poorer  than  in  men ;  not  a  hard  dollar  being  in 
the  money-chest,  even  for  the  most  important  necessity 
of  an  army — secret  intelligence. 


134  LfFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

But,  with  little  to  encourage,  he  was  still  hopeful, 
With  the  waters  of  the  Catawba  roaring  between  the 
two  armies,  and  forbidding  the  farther  pursuit  of  the 
British,  he  busied  himself  in  recruiting  the  militia. 
With  a  considerable  number  of  recruits,  he  might  even 
venture,  when  the  river  subsided,  to  dispute  the  passage 
with  the  enemy,  and  to  this  labor  he  addressed  himself 
with  his  habitual  energy.  "  It  is  my  only  wish  to  be 
upon  an  equal  footing  with  Lord  Cornwallis,  and  if 
I  do  not  give  you  a  good  account  of  him,  I  will 
agree  to  be  subject  to  your  censure."  Such  was  his 
language  to  Washington.  Again,  he  says :  "  I  am 
not  without  hopes  of  ruining  Lord  Cornwallis,  if  he 
persists  in  his  mad  scheme  of  pushing  through  the  coun 
try."  To  effect  this  object,  Greene  required  a  well-ap 
pointed  army  of  five  thousand  infantry  and  eight  hundred 
or  a  thousand  horse,  equipped  for  active  operations. 
"  Such  a  force,  assisted  by  the  auxiliary  aid  of  the  mili 
tia,  would  prove  superior  to  any  force  the  enemy  could 
maintain  in  the  field  in  this  quarter."  The  militia  was 
forthcoming,  but  there  was  no  maintenance  for  them. 
"  There  is,"  says  he,  "  a  great  spirit  of  enterprise  pre 
vailing  among  the  militia  of  these  southern  states  ;"  but 
they  fluctuated  in  their  periods  of  service,  going  and 
coming  at  pleasure,  as  well  they  might  do,  when  they 
not  only  got  no  pay,  but  were  without  clothing  or  pro 
visions.  "  Early  in  January,  several  hundreds  of  the 
troops  actually  could  not  appear  at  drill,  or  perform 
guard  duty,  for  want  of  clothing." — "  More  than  half  our 
numbers  are,  in  a  manner,  naked ;  so  much  so  that  we 
can  not  put  them  on  the  least  kind  of  duty.  Indeed, 
there  is  a  great  number  that  have  not  a  rag  of  clothes  on 
them,  except  a  little  piece  of  blanket,  in  the  Indian  form , 
around  their  waists."  That,  men,  under  such  conditions, 
should  be  found  in  camp  at  all,  is  passing  wonderful. 


GREENE  S    FORTITUDE    AND    SKILL.  135 

Greene  made  the  most  of  his  resources,  and  bore  up 
against  his  difficulties  with  exemplary  fortitude  and  skill. 
To  secure  the  prisoners  taken  by  Morgan,  was  a  first 
object,  and,  to  do  this  without  lessening  the  numerical 
strength  of  his  army,  was  not  less  important.  They  had 
been  properly  sent  forward  in  advance,  by  Morgan,  as 
soon  as  he  had  effected  the  passage  of  the  Catawba;  but 
there  was  still  a  long  journey  to  perform  before  a  place 
could  be  reached  wheie  they  would  be  secure  from  res 
cue.  It  happened  that  the  term  of  service  of  the  Vir 
ginia  militia  was  nearly  out.  Greene  employed  them 
during  the  remaining  interval  of  duty,  to  take  charge  of 
the  prisoners,  and  conduct  them  to  Virginia.  He  was 
thus  enabled  to  secure  his  prize  without  losing  the  ser 
vice  of  a  single  man.  Orders  had  previously  been  given 
for  effecting  a  junction,  at  Salisbury,  of  his  force  with 
that  of  Morgan.  He  had  prepared  for  this  junction,  col 
lected  and  camped  his  provisions,  where  they  lay  away 
from  the  contemplated  route  ;  called  in  his  detachments  ; 
given  orders  to  convey  stores  and  valuable  property  to 
the  interior  from  the  seaboard ;  and,  in  order  the  more 
securely  to  provide  for  the  chances  of  retreat,  instructed 
his  quartermaster-general  to  form  a  magazine  on  the 
Roanoke,  and  hold  his  boats  in  readiness  for  transporta 
tion  on  the  Dan.  Despatches  to  the  several  governors 
of  the  southern  states,  to  supply  their  several  quotas  — 
to  Steuben,  to  hasten  his  recruits  —  and  to  the  mount 
aineers  along  the  frontier  ranges  of  the  Carolinas  and 
Virginia,  to  come  forward  and  renew  the  glorious  exam 
ples  of  courage  and  patriotism  which  they  had  shown  at 
King's  mountain  —  were  among  the  thousand  details 
which  furnished  employment,  at  this  period  of  exigency, 
to  his  comprehensive  and  indefatigable  mind. 

To  resume.  Greene's  exertions  to  collect  a  sufficient 
oody  of  militia  for  the  defence  of  the  passage  of  thre  Ca 


136  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

tawba,  was  not  successful,  and  the  stream  now  began  to 
fill.  It  was  evident  that  the  moment  would  soon  approach 
when  the  British  army  would  begin  to  move  ;  and  all  that 
could  be  done  was  to  retard  his  passage,  and  cripple  him  as 
much  as  possible,  while  the  force  of  Morgan  disappeared. 
For  this  object,  General  Davidson,  with  three  hundred 
mounted  riflemen,  forming  a  corps  of  observation,  were 
to  watch  and  dispute  the  passage  of  the  river,  while  a 
similar  force,  also  militia  riflemen,  were  scattered  along 
the  bank,  so  as  to  keep  eye  and  aim  upon  all  of  the  sev 
eral  fords  by  which  the  enemy  might  attempt  to  cross 
Greene  remained  with  these,  in  order  to  bring  them  off 
as  soon  as  the  passage  was  effected  ;  while  Morgan,  at 
Beaty's  ford,  and  six  miles  nearer  the  place  of  rendez 
vous  (which  was  designated-, and  on  the  road  to  Salisbury, 
some  sixteen  miles  from  the  Catawba),  was  prepared  to 
march  at  the  first  signal.  He  did  so,  hastily  and  in 
silence,  on  the  evening  of  the  31st  of  January.  The 
river  v/as  now  falling  quite  as  rapidly  as  it  had  risen  ; 
no  more  militia  were  to  be  expected,  and  the  British 
were  preparing  to  force  the  passage.  After  several  feints, 
and  false  demonstrations,  the  better  to  deceive  the  Amer 
ican  riflemen  as  to  the  true  course  which  he  meant  tc 
take  in  crossing  the  Catawba,  Cornwallis,  at  length,  a 
midnight,  on  the  first  of  February,  approached  the  fort 
called  M'Cowan's  with  the  main  body  of  his  army.  This 
as  a  private  passage,  but  little  frequented,  afforded  the  best 
prospect  of  effecting  a  surprise  of  the  Americans.  While 
he  attempted  the  ford  in  person,  he  despatched  his  favor 
ite  colonels,  Webster  and  Tarleton,  with  a  strong  de 
tachment,  to  cross  at  Beaty's,  the  ford  which  Mor 
gan  had  so  recently  abandoned.  Of  course,  there  was 
no  obstacle  to  the  passage  of  this  detachment,  which 
reached  the  opposite  banks  in  safety.  Davidson,  mean 
while,  having  command  of  the  American  riflemen,  main 


THE    BRITISH    PASS    THE    CATAWBA.  13V 

tained  his  station  along  the  banks  which  commanded  the 
ford  at  M'Cowan's.  He  had  not  been  deceived  by  the 
ruse  of  the  British  general,  and  maintained  for  him  a 
vigilant  watch,  which,  but  for  the  choice  of  the  time  for 
crossing,  and  an  accident  which,  seeming  to  threaten,  had 
leally  helped  the  enemy,  would  have  enabled  him  to  ex 
act  a  heavy  toll  of  blood  for  the  passage.  Cornwallis 
judiciously  chose  the  night-time  to  effect  his  object. 
There  was  no  proper  employment  of  the  rifle  in  the 
dark;  and,  in  its  shadows,  the  troops  were  but  partially 
conscious  of  the  appalling  aspect  of  a  stream  five  hun 
dred  yards  in  width,  foaming  tumultuous  over  its  une 
qual  bed  of  rocks,  overturning  men  and  horses,  sweep 
ing  the  strongest  from  their  feet,  and  leaving  them  inca 
pable  of  defence  from  their  assailants,  secure  and  steady 
on  the  river.  Their  fate  must  have  been  inevitable  had 
the  passage  been  attempted  in  broad  daylight.  But  Corn 
wallis  determined  wisely.  The  heads  of  his  columns 
entered  the  river  about  the  dawn  of  "day,  but  the  day 
opened  in  storm  and  rain,  and  objects  were  scarcely 
visible  except  when  near  at  hand.  Davidson,  knowing 
the  ford,  had  posted  his  men  to  receive  them  where  they 
should  approach  the  eastern  bank.  Crouching  among 
the  trees  and  bushes  that  lined  the  river,  they  waited 
anxiously  for  the  moment  when  they  should  each  be  able 
to  select  the  object  for  his  aim.  But,  in  the  darkness  ana 
confusion  of  the  scene,  the  strife  and  roar  of  raging  wa 
ters,  and  the  dense  mists  of  the  falling  rain,  the  guide  of 
the  British  lost  his  way,  became  alarmed,  and  finally  fled, 
leaving  the  column  to  make  its  forward  progress  as  they 
could.  This  saved  them.  They  wandered  out  of  the 
track,  and,  though  getting  into  much  deeper  water,  yet 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  shore  at  a  point  where  they  haa 
not  been  expected,  and  where  no  preparations  had  been 
made  for  them  Davidson  was  soon  apprized  of  this  mis- 


138          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

fortune,  and  proceeded,  with  all  haste,  to  repair  it,  by  shifV 
ing  his  position,  and  bringing  his  rifles  to  bear  upon  them 
in  front.  His  movement  was  made  with  equal  judgment 
and  despatch,  but,  incautiously  exposing  himself,  in  the 
glare  of  his  own  fires,  he  sunk,  mortally  wounded,  under 
a  volley  from  the  British  platoons.  His  rifles,  however, 
were  not  idle.  "Wherever  they  could  bring  an  enemy 
within  range,  they  covered  him  with  a  fatal  finger. 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Hall,  leading  the  light-infantry  of  the 
British,  was  among  their  slain,  and  Comwallis  himself 
had  a  narrow  escape,  his  horse  having  been  killed  undei 
him.  A  sharp  conflict,  which  preceded  the  fall  of  Da 
vidson,  was  terminated  in  his  death,  and  leaving  the  pas 
sage  free,  which  they  could  no  longer  successfully  de 
fend,  the  militia  dispersed  in  search  of  safety.  A  small 
body  of  these,  not  more  than  a  hundred  in  number, 
stopped  at  a  tavern  some  ten  miles  from  the  scene  of 
conflict,  and,  supposing  themselves  safe,  prepared  to  take 
refreshment.  They  had  nearly  paid  dearly  for  their  in 
discretion.  The  approach  of  Tarleton  compelled  them 
to  take  to  their  horses.  Fortunately,  their  videttes  gave 
the  alarm  in  season,  and,  accustomed  to  deliver  their  fire 
on  horseback,  almost  as  well  as  on  foot,  the  Americans 
gave  him  a  Parthian  reception,  shooting  as  they  fled,  and 
dashed  away  into  forests  which  he  did  not  think  it  advi 
sable  to  penetrate.  Seven  men  and  twenty  horses  fell  at 
this  single  fire  ;  which  the  British  colonel  avenged  in  the 
wanton  massacre  of  a  few  old  men  and  boys  upon  whom 
he  fell  in  this  expedition,  and  who  neither  offered,  nor 
meditated  resistance. 

The  militia  of  Davidson  dispersed  for  a  time,  after  the 
fall  of  their  general.  But  seven  miles  from  the  tavern 
where  Tarleton  had  his  encounter  with  a  part  of  them, 
he  little  knew  that  Greene  with  his  suite,  but  without 
any  other  escort,  remained  in  tvaiting  for  them.  At  a 


INCIDENT    OF    FEMALE    PATRIOTISM.  139 

single  dash,  and  with  but  twenty  men,  he  might  have 
pounced  upon  this  more  important  prey.  Greene  waited 
for  Davidson  and  his  militia  in  vain.  He  lingered  till 
midnight,  before  he  learned  the  fate  of  that  brave  officer 
and  the  dispersion  of  his  troops.  Then,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  he  proceeded  to  Salisbury,  where  he  arrived, 
exhausted  in  body,  and  humbled  and  distressed  in  spir 
its.  Here  it  was,  that  one  of  those  incidents  occurred, 
of  which  the  revolutionary  history  in  the  southern 
states  can  boast  so  many,  in  which  woman  shows  her 
self  not  less  the  angel  of  patriotism  than  of  charity 
and  love.  As  Greene  made  his  appearance  at  Steele's 
tavern,  the  disordered  state  of  his  garments,  the  stiff 
ness  of  his  limbs,  the  languor  of  his  movements,  the 
dejection  of  his1  mood  and  manner,  became  painfully 
apparent  to  every  eye.  Approaching  him,  as  he  alighted 
from  his  horse,  his  friend,  Dr.  Read,  addressed  him  with 
inquiries  of  most  anxious  solicitude  ;  to  which  he  replied, 
not  able  to  repress  his  anguish,  that  he  came  alone, 
exhausted,  penniless,  and  hungry.  The  reply  did  not 
escape  the  ears  of  the  excellent  landlady.  His  breakfast 
was  soon  prepared  and  smoking ;  and  he  had  scarcely 
finished  it,  when  she  presented  herself,  closed  the  door 
of  the  apartment,  and,  producing  a  small  bag  of  specie 
in  each  hand,  she  forced  them  upon  him.  "  Take  them," 
said  the  noble  creature ;  "  you  will  need,  and  I  can  do 
without  the  money."  Never  did  help  come  at  a  better 
season.  An  acquisition  so  important  to  the  public  ser 
vice,  was  not  to  be  rejected  through  scruples  of  mere 
delicacy ;  and  Greene  rose  from  the  breakfast-table,  no 
longer  penniless — no  longer  succumbing  to  the  condition 
which  had  made  him  feel  himself  so  utterly  alone.  The 
obligation  was  afterward  repaid.  A  few  words  expressed 
the  gratitude  of  the  American  general.  He  had  not 
time  for  more.  His  friends  warned  him  against  the 


140  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

numbers  and  the  hostility  of  the  loyalists  of  this  region,- 
rendered  doubly  eager  and  active  in  consequence  of  the 
approach  of  their  enemies ;  and  he  hurried  with  all 
expedition  to  rejoin  the  army,  then  about  to  effect  the 
passage  of  the  Yadkin. 

It  was  now  the  aim  of  Lord  Cornwallis  to  repair  the 
consequences  of  previous  delays,  by  pushing  his  adver 
sary  with  all  possible  rapidity.  Once  upon  the  same 
side  of  the  river  with  the  Americans,  he  proceeded  to 
make  a  second  sacrifice  of  all  unnecessary  baggage. 
Destroying  his  wagons,  he  was  enabled  to  double  the 
teams  for  his  artillery,  and  to  mount  a  considerable  body 
of  infantry.  These  he  joined  to  his  cavalry,  which  he 
pushed  forward  under  General  O'Hara.  His  hope  was 
now  to  overtake  Morgan,  before  he  could  pass  the  Yad 
kin.  But  Morgan's  command,  relieved  by  the  mililia 
under  Davidson,  had  been  greatly  refreshed  by  the  halt 
made  upon  the  Catawba ;  and,  having  the  stait  of  his 
eager  adversary,  and  urged  forward  by  Greene,  lie 
pressed  on  with  a  celerity,  which  was  rather  increased 
than  lessened,  by  a  heavy  rain-storm,  which  prevailed 
through  the  whole  of  a  day  and  night.  Greene  knew 
that  a  sudden  and  great  rise  in  the  river  would  be  the 
consequence  of  this  rain,  and  was  anxious  to  secure  the 
passage  before  the  occurrence  of  an  event  which,  if  he 
could  succeed  in  doing  so,  would  insure  his  safety,  and 
enable  him  to  avoid  that  resort  to  a  last  stake,  which  it 
was  the  policy  of  the  British  general  to  compel.  The 
latter  concentrated  all  his  resources  upon  the  pursuit, 
and  his  troops  obeyed  his  wishes  with  an  alacrity,  that 
showed  how  well  they  knew  the  importance  of  the  prize. 
But  their  labors  were  again  taken  in  vain.  Morgan 
reached  the  Yadkin  without  having  felt  his  enemy  at  his 
heels  ;  and,  here  it  was  that  the  provident  forethought  of 
Greene  enabled  him  to  reap  all  the  benefits  of  his  rapid 


PASSAGE    OF    THE    YADKIN.  141 

march.  Boats  had  been  collected,  by  his  orders,  long 
in  advance  of  the  necessity  which  he  yet  foresaw ;  and 
these,  ranged  along  the  river  at  the  several  crossing- 
places,  afforded  him  a  quick  passage  of  the  Yadkin, 
whether  his  purpose  be  attack  or  defence.  The  infantry 
and  baggage  of  the  Americans  were  transported  to  the 
opposite  shore  without  difficulty,  and  the  stream  was  not 
yet  sufficiently  swollen  to  keep  the  cavalry  from  fording. 
Yet,  so  rapid  had  been  the  pursuit  of  O' tiara,  with  1  is 
powerful  detachment  of  cavalry  and  mounted  infantry, 
that  he  succeeded  in  crossing  weapons  with  the  Ameri 
can  rear-guard,  which  was  composed  entirely  of  militia 
of  the  country,  before  it  could  throw  the  river  between 
itself  and  the  enemy.  This  guard  had  been  delayed,  in 
consequence  of  its  being  joined  by  considerable  numbers 
if  the  whigs  of  Salisbury,  who,  with  their  families,  were 
compelled  to  fly,  as  a  penalty  of  their  patriotism,  at  the 
approach  of  the  British.  The  baggage  of  these  fugi 
tives  proved  an  incumbrarice ;  but,  though  retarding 
their  progress,  it  was  not  the  proper  policy  of  the  Ameri 
can  general,  looking  to  the  future  no  less  than  the  pres 
ent,  to  discard  it  from  his  protection.  The  baggage  of 
the  army  had  been  passed  ;  the  army  itself  was  in  safety 
on  the  opposite  side  ;  but,  before  the  wagons  of  the  fugi 
tives  could  be  got  across,  the  enemy  broke  upon  them. 
But  the  militia  stood  their  ground  manfully.  It  was  mid 
night,  and  they  were  favored  by  the  darkness.  A  sharp 
skirmish  ensued,  in  which  both  sides  claimed  the  advan 
tage.  That  it  belonged  to  the  Americans,  is  beyond  a 
doubt,  since  they  gained  their  object,  saved  m'ost  of  the 
wagons,  and  effected  their  own  passage  in  safety  and 
without  loss  ;  —  a  boast  which  it  was  not  in  the  power  of 
the  British  to  assert. 

O  Hara  chafed  vainly,  upon  one  side  of  the  river,  at 
the  security  which  his  enemy  enjoyed  upon  the  other 


142  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

A  fruitless  attempt  to  seize  upon  some  of  the  ooats  of 
the  Americans,  increased  his  distemper.  He  was  com 
pelled  to  draw  bridle  and  wait  for  the  approach  of  his 
superior.  It  was  not  long  before  Cornwallis,  with  the 
whole  British  army,  appeared  on  the  banks  of  the 
Yadkin.  The  prospect  before  him  was  sufficiently 
mortifying.  Thus  far,  his  exertions  had  been  taken  in 
vain.  Greene  was  in  possession  of  all  the  boats,  and 
the  stream  was  now  beyond  its  bounds,  swollen  by  the 
rains,  and  no  longer  fordable.  The  artillery  was  brought 
up,  and  long  shot  were  employed  to  effect  a  passage 
which  was  not  within  the  power  of  the  soldiery.  A 
furious  cannonade  was  opened  upon  the  American  en 
campment  on  the  opposite  banks  ;  but  it  proved  an  idle 
waste  of  ammunition.  The  camp  was  sheltered  behind 
a  rising  ground,  while  the  rocks  on  the  margin  of  the 
stream  afforded  crouching-places  of  sufficient  security 
for  the  sentinels.  The  British  general  had  all  this  can 
nonading  to  himself.  In  Morgan's  command  there  was 
no  artillery.  The  two  pieces  which  had  been  taken  at 
the  Cowpens,  placed  in  wagons,  had  been  hurried  on, 
with  the  prisoners,  to  Virginia.  He  could,  accordingly, 
return  none  of  the  distant  civilities  of  the  British.  These 
do  not  seem  to  have  occasioned  much  disquiet  among  the 
Americans.  It  is  related  of  Greene,  for  example,  that  he 
had  taken  up  his  quarters  in  a  little  cabin,  which  was  par 
tially  sheltered  by  a  pile  of  rocks,  a  small  distance  from 
the  river.  Here,  while  his  military  family  were  amusing 
themselves  in  drawing  straws,  or  doing  what  else  they 
thought  proper  to  beguile  the  time,  the  general  was 
more  busily  employed  in  preparing  his  despatches.  At 
length,  however,  as  if  the  British  had  guessed  his  hiding- 
place,  and  were  anxious  to  disturb  his  occupation,  their 
cannon  were  pointed  to  the  cabin,  the  roof  of  which, 
alone,  was  apparent  to  their  aim.  Very  soon  the  bullets 


ANECDOTE     OF    GREENE.  143 

were  seen  to  strike  the  rocks  in  the  rear,  and  to 'skip 
about  the  neighborhood.  Soon  they  travelled  nearer 
and  nearer,  until  the  clapboards  of  tbe  roof  began  to  fly 
hi  all  directions.  What  emotions  these  unruly  visitors 
provoked  in  the  minds  of  those  who  were  at  their  inno 
cent  games  of  Push-pin  and  Jack  Straw  —  the  afds  of 
the  general — have  not  been  reported  ;  but  Greene,  him 
self,  is  described  as  showing  no  sort  of  concern.  He 
still  wrote,  heeding  nothing  but  his  despatches,  and  only 
turning  from  them  to  answer  the  numerous  applications 
that  were  constantly  addressed  to  him.  His  pen  never 
rested  but  at  the  appearance  of  some  new  applicant, 
who  received  his  answer,  distinguished  by  equal  calm 
ness  and  precision ;  the  pen  of  the  general  being  again 
set  in  motion  the  moment  of  his  departure. 


144          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

L'-ontnmed  Pursuit  of  the  Americans  by  Cornwallis. — Greene  meditates 
&  Stand  at  Guilfovd. — Condition  of  his  Army. — Continues  the  Retreat 
through  North  Carolina — Deludes  Cornwallis,  who  pursues  a  Detach 
ment  under  Williams,  while  the  main  Anny  of  the  Americans  crosses 
the  River  Dan  in  Security. 

THE  British  general,  for  a  time,  was  nonplused.  With 
a  superior  army,  in  better  training  and  condition,  within 
striking  distance  of  his  enemy,  he  was  yet  compelled  to 
look  on,  without  being  able  to  strike  a  blow.  It  was  not 
merely  the  interests  of  his  sovereign  that  suffered  by  this 
involuntary  inactivity.  His  own  reputation  was  seriously 
endangered  by  the  position  of  his  affairs.  How  had  his 
enemy  eluded  him  ?  How,  encumbered  with  prisoners 
and  baggage,  with  a  vastly  inferior  force,  had  he  con 
trived  to  escape  the  pursuit,  which  he  had  every  reason 
to  apprehend  would  ce  hotly  urged,  and  which,  thus 
urged,  would,  in  all  probability,  have  ruined  him  ?  True, 
that,  on  two  occasions,  the  unexpected  rising  of  the  wa 
ters  had  interposed  for  his  safety.  But  might  not  Corn 
wallis  have  overtaken  him  before  he  reached  the  Catavv- 
ba  ?  and  did  not  his  mounted  men  and  cavalry,  a  force  in 
itself  almost  equal  to  that  commanded  by  Morgan,  actu 
ally  engage  the  rear-guard  of  the  latter,  on  the  banks  of 
the  very  stream  which  now  opposed  itself  to  his  forward 
pi  ogress]  History  points  to  the  want  of  forethought, 
an  the  part  of  Cornwallis,  which,  unlike  the  case  with 
Greene,  had  failed  to  provide  against  the  rising  of  the 
waters ;  and  to  the  waste  of  more  than  forty-eight  hours 


CORNWALUS'S    FORTUNES.  115 

m  the  destruction  of  his  bag-gage,  which  a  small  detach 
ment  might  have  been  left  to  break  up  and  consign  to 
the  flames.  It  is  recorded  of  Greene,  that,  when  he 
heard  of  the  pause  of  the  British  army  to  destroy  its 
baggage  —  an  act  which  indicated  the  determination  to 
traverse  the  whole  country,  if  need  be,  in  pursuit — he 
rose  exultingly,  with  the  prophetic  exclamation,  "  Then 
he  is  ours  !"  The  prediction  was  verified;  not  literally, 
perhaps,  for  Greene  was  not  permitted  to  be  "in  at  the 
death"  of  the  game  —  but  verified  in  the  capture  of  York  - 
town,  as  a  strict  result  of  this  insane  expedition. 

Standing  on  the  banks  of  the  Yadkin,  and  surveying 
the  tents  of  his  enemy,  secure  beyond,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  Comwallis  began  to  entertain  some  misgivings  of 
his  policy  and  fortune.  Perhaps  his  misgivings  with  re 
gard  to  his  policy  were  only  due  to  the  unpromising  aspect 
of  his  fortunes.  His  efforts,  whether  urged  with  sufficient 
energy  and  audacity  or  not,  had  been  fruitless  ;  and  it 
was  now  due  to  his  safety  that  he  should  strike  a  blow, 
sufficiently  heavy  and  successful,  to  do  away  with  the 
impression  of  the  brilliant  victory  at  Cowpens.  But  his 
mind  evidently  vacillated  between  its  objects ;  the  worst 
event,  perhaps,  in  the  career  of  a  military  man.  He  con 
sumed  four  precious  days  in  deliberation,  which  should 
have  been  employed  in  action ;  and  then  resolved  un 
wisely.  There  were  still  two  ways  of  striking  at  his 
enemy.  As  yet,  the  junction  had  not  been  effected  be 
tween  the  two  divisions  of  Greene's  army.  That  under 
Morgan  has  employed  our  attention,  and  is  now  before 
us ;  but  the  main  body  of  the  army,  under  General  Hu- 
ger,  was  in  full  progress  for  Guilford.  To  dart  between 
these  two  bodies,  and  strike  them  in  detail,  was  the  de 
sire  and  final  resolution  of  the  British  commander.  This 
resolution,  of  itself,  was  not  amiss,  had  it  not  been  too 
tardy  of  adoption ;  but  it  was  not  till  two  days  after  his 
7 


146          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

arrival  at  the  banks  of  the  Yadkin,  that  he  detached  par 
ties  to  reconnoitre  the  country,  and  to  seek  other  cros 
sing-places,  nor  until  the  eighth  of  February,  that  he  at 
length  passed  the  river.  Yet  the  river  had  been  falling 
on  \hc>  fourth,  was  fordable  the  next  day,  and  Greene's 
army  was  in  motion,  after  the  halt  of  a  day,  the  moment 
he  discovered  the  subsiding  of  the  stream.  The  hesita 
tion  of  the  British  general,  betraying  doubt  and  incerti 
tude,  may  have  arisen  out  of  his  difficulty  to  decide  upon 
the  division  which  was  most  proper  to  assail.  It  may 
have  been  the  fruit,  also,  of  some  vague  general  appre 
hension  as  to  the  dangers  and  exigencies  of  a  long  pur 
suit,  through  a  waste  country,  filled  with  bitter  foes  and 
doubtful  friends,  when  the  important  object  to  be  gained, 
the  junction  of  his  force  with  that  of  Philips  in  Virginia, 
might  be  baffled ;  in  which  event,  not  only  must  South 
Carolina  be  lost,  but  he,  himself,  be  destroyed  or  cap 
tured.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  doubts  or  appre 
hensions,  they  certainly  produced  such  a  pause  in  his 
action,  as  set  at  peril  all  that  he  had  hoped  from  his  pre 
vious  enterprise.  Crossing  the  Yadkin  on  the  8th,  and 
resuming  the  pursuit  of  Greene,  in  the  hope  of  cutting 
him  off  from  the  upper  fords  of  the  Dan,  he  gave  him 
opportunities  and  a  start  which  it  was  not  easy  to  re 
cover.  Not  that  Greene's  object  was  simply  to  elude 
and  escape  his  formidable  adversary.  His  purpose  was  a 
more  profound  one.  "We  find  him,  for  example,  halting 
Morgan  at  the  Catawba,  and  resting  his  jaded  troops  ; 
availing  himself  of  all  the  respite  afforded  by  the  rising 
of  the  river,  yet  without  preparing,  in  this  delay  to  offer 
battle  when  the  enemy  should  cross.  Starting  off,  when 
the  passage  is  about  to  be  effected,  we  find  him  keeping 
just  far  enough  ahead  to  beguile  the  British  in  pursuit. 
Crossing  the  Yadkin  as  he  had  done  the  Catawba,  he 
again  halts,  and  coolly  surveys  his  pursuer.  Thus  IIP 


GREENE'S  POLICY.  i47 

rests  quietly,  until  again  warned  by  the  falling  of  the 
waters  ;  and  pushing  forward  for  the  Dan,  again  to  prac 
tise  the  same  game ;  beguile  his  enemy  yet  deeper  into 
the  heart  of  the  country,  where,  in  the  event  of  a  battle, 
his  resources  must  be  cut  off,  and  where  a  defeat,  or  dis 
aster  of  any  kind,  would  leave  him  hopeless  of  help,  and 
at  the  mercy  of  the  Americans.     Cornwallis  might  well 
have  hesitated  to  follow  this  lure.     But  he  probably  did 
not  suspect  Greene  of  a  scheme  so  profound.     It  was 
one  cause  of  the  failure  of  the  British,  that  they  never 
learned  the  lesson,  till  too  late,  which  teaches  them  to  re 
spect  an  enemy.     The  pursuit  of  Cornwallis,  and  the 
retreat  of  Greene  before  him,  has  been  entitled  "  a  mili 
tary  T&ce,"  and  the  credit  awarded  to  the   two  parties 
has  been  limited  to  the  speed  with  which   one  of  them 
fled,  and  with  which  the  other  pursued.    The  subtle  pol 
icy  which  governed  Greene's  movements  has  but  too  fre 
quently  escaped  the  notice  of  historians.     It  is  true,  that, 
assuming  it  as  the  cue  of  the  American  general  to  run 
only,  it  somewhat  worried  them  to  account  for  his  fre 
quent  halts.    But  it  was  easier  to  suppose  that,  in  doing  so, 
he  only  blundered  in  carrying  out  his  own  policy,  than  to 
admit  that  there  was  a  something  occult  in  his  progress 
which  they  could  not  altogether  fathom.     The  game  of 
Greene,   a   sufficiently  delicate  one,  was  to  amuse  his 
enemy  —  delay  his  progress — beguile  him    with    hope, 
onward  and  onward,  still  farther  from  the  base  of  his  op 
erations,  from  all  resources,  while  the  country  closed  in 
upon  him   on   all  hands,  and  the  militia,  springing  up 
from  the  soil,  hung  upon  his  footsteps,  cutting  off  his  sup 
plies,  and  embodying  for  the  final  struggle  which  should 
give  the  coup  de  grace  to  his  career,  as  in  the  case  of 
Burgoyne.     We  must  give  Cornwallis  some  cred't  for  a 
supposed  anticipation  of  such  a  fortune.     To  this,  and 
other  causes  not  apparent  to  us,  we  may  probably  assign 


148  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

that  incertitude  of  conduct  which  seems  to  have  para 
lyzed  his  energies,  and  was  certainly  unfavorable  to  his 
objects. 

Greene,  meanwhile,  after  remaining  a  day  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Yadkin  —  evidently,  with  the  policy  which 
we  have  indicated,  that  of  beguiling  the  enemy  still 
farther  in  pursuit  —  continued  his  march,  and,  at  length, 
planted  himself  in  a  secure  position,  a  short  distance 
from  Salem,  in  the  forks  of  Abbott's  creek.  Here  he 
again  halted,  and  watched  the  movements  of  his  adver 
sary.  The  position  was  one  which  not  only  enabled 
him  to  do  this  effectually,  but  served,  in  some  measure, 
to  distract  the  judgment  of  Cornwallis  in  regard  to  the 
future  route  which  the  Americans  might  take.  On  that 
subject  Greene  had  already  decided.  He  had,  from 
Salisbury,  sent  instructions  to  Huger,  with  the  main 
army,  to  push  for  Guilford,  where  he  designed  to  effect 
a  junction  of  the  two  divisions ;  his  farther  purpose  be 
ing  to  make  a  stand,  if  advisable  under  the  circum 
stances,  at  that  place,  and  if  a  proper  position  could  be 
found  for  fighting  his  adversary  to  advantage.  He  had 
grown  somewhat  weary  of  seeming  only  to  be  desirous 
of  eluding  his  enemy;  and  there  were  several  causes, 
besides,  which  rendered  it  advisable  that  he  should  give 
him  battle.  The  moral  effect  of  a  prolonged  retreat 
was  highly  injurious,  in  a  region  where  the  population 
was  not  only  greatly  divided  in  sentiment,  but  where 
they  had  been  greatly  dispirited  by  the  previous  events 
)f  the  conflict.  Even  the  brilliant  victory  at  the  Cow- 
pens,  though  of  the  most  encouraging  character,  hail 
failed  to  make  an  impression  sufficiently  deep  to  exclude 
from  remembrance  the  repeated  disasters  of  the  strug 
gle  ;  and  it  was  highly  important  that  this  impression 
should  be  renewed,  if  possible,  at  this  very  juncture., 
when  the  effect  of  this  victory  was  still,  though  begin 


GREENE    MEDITATES    BATTLE.  149 

ning  to  subside,  tolerably  fresh  and  vivid  in  the  recollec 
tions  of  the  people.  Besides,  Cornwallis  had  now  been 
lured  sufficiently  far  from  his  resources  for  the  purpose 
of  the  Americans.  He  had  now  reached  the  centre  of 
North  Carolina  —  was  at  a  great  distance  from  his  mag 
azines  in  South  Carolina,  and  quite  as  remote  from  the 
British  army  then  operating  in  Virginia.  Could  he  be 
brought  now  to  fight,  on  a  field  selected  by  his  adver 
sary,  he  must,  necessarily,  fight  under  every  disadvan 
tage.  Even  a  victory  would  not  materially  help  his 
career,  could  the  Americans  cripple  him  in  the  contest ; 
while  any  success  to  the  latter,  even  a  drawn  battle, 
would  probably  result  in  placing  the  British  army  liors 
du  comlat.  Short  of  provisions,  with  their  munitions  of 
war  partially  or  quite  exhausted,  and  encumbered  with 
wounded,  they  must  fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  militia,  rising 
on  every  hand,  under  the  encouragement  afforded  by  the 
prospect  of  overwhelming  the  invader.  With  these  cal 
culations,  Greene  was  already  contemplating  the  strug 
gle  for  victory,  while  Cornwallis  imagined  him  only 
anxious  to  elude  the  strife.  We  have  seen,  already, 
how  industriously  he  had  striven,  though  with  small 
success,  to  rouse  up  and  organize  the  militia.  Contem 
plating  the  approaching  trial  of  strength  with  his  pur 
suer,  he  wrote  to  the  officers  of  militia  in  the  vicinity  of 
Guilford,  to  call  out  their  followers,  and  appear  in  all  their 
strength  at  that  place.  Couriers  were  also  despatched  to 
Hillsborough  for  the  same  object,  and  every  preparation 
was  made  for  the  anticipated  encounter.  A  single  day's 
march  would  bring  the  division  of  Morgan  to  Guilford, 
and,  with  advices  that  Cornwallis  was  in  motion  and 
had  crossed  the  Yadkin,  this  body  of  troops  began  their 
movement.  The  junction  of  the  two  divisions  was 
effected  on  the  9th  of  February,  the  army  being  strength 
ened  by  the  arrival  of  Lee  with  his  legion,  who  joined 


150  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

them  on  the  following  day.  But  the  militia  did  not 
appear  in  numbers  at  all  equal  to  the  public  expectation  ; 
and  a  review  of  the  American  forces,  showed  them  to  be 
quite  inadequate  to  the  struggle  with  an  army  so  supe 
rior  in  numbers  and  equipment  as  that  of  Cornwallis. 
The  whole  of  the  force  under  Greene,  of  all  arms,  fit 
for  duty,  was  but  two  thousand  and  thirty-six ;  of  these, 
but  fourteen  hundred  and  twenty-six  were  regulars. 
The  army  of  the  British,  on  the  other  hand,  was  known 
to  consist  of  nearly,  or  quite,  three  thousand  men,  all 
soldiers  in  the  highest  state  of  discipline,  and  amply  pro 
vided  with  the  proper  clothing  and  munitions.  A  coun 
cil  of  war  unanimously  resolved,  that  to  offer  battle  to  the 
enemy,  under  such  a  disparity  of  strength  and  resources, 
would  be  sheer  desperation;  and  Greene  reluctantly 
submitted  to  the  necessity,  sufficiently  obvious  to  him 
self,  of  continuing  his  retreat.  Could  he  have  drawn 
together  an  additional  force  of  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred 
militia,  his  resolution  would  have  been  to  offer  battle ; 
but  the  wasting  policy  which  governed  the  movements 
_>f  the  militia — by  which,  recruited  for  a  short  period, 
half  of  their  time  was  consumed  in  marching  to  and 
from  the  service  —  was  fatal  to  their  efficiency  and  the 
permanence  of  an  army.  The  Virginia  militia,  for  exam 
ple,  had  been  sent  into  the  field  for  a  tour  of  duty  of 
three  months ;  and,  in  this  brief  period,  how  much  of  it 
remained  unconsumed,  when,  going  and  returning,  they 
were  required  to  traverse,  without  any  employment 
against  the  enemy,  a  space  of  six  hundred  miles?  As 
fast,  therefore,  as  new  supplies  of  the  militia  made  their 
appearance,  corresponding  numbers  were  ready  to  de 
part  ;  and  the  consequence  was,  such  a  fluctuation  in  the 
strength  of  the  army,  as  continually  to  baffle  its  efficiency, 
and  to  leave  it  in  doubt  as  to  its  own  numbers.  Greene's 
disappointment  was  great  as  he  contemplated  the  neces- 


GREENES  MANOEUVRES. 


sity  of  farther  retreat.  He  had  been  hoping  against 
hope.  He  had  baffled  pursuit  thus  far,  but  it  was  still 
humiliating  to  be  compelled  to  submit  to  it  ;  and,  even 
though  he  should  not  be  overtaken  by  his  pursuer,  it 
was  to  the  latter  an  advantage,  next  to  a  victory,  if  the 
Americans  should  still  b3  forced  to  fly.  It  was  not  the 
least  mortifying  consciousness  of  the  American  general, 
that  his  opponent,  penetrating  a  whig  country,  was 
already  lighting  his  cruel  torch  in  the  blaze  of  burning 
cottages.  Greene  could  only  sorrow  for  the  sufferers  : 
he  could  neither  save  nor  avenge  them. 

The  resolution  being  taken  to  continue  the  retreat, 
the  American  general  lost  no  time  in  putting  it  in  execu 
tion.  Cornwallis  was  still  pressing  forward,  and,  on  the 
10th  of  February,  a  space  of  twenty-five  miles,  only, 
separated  the  rival  armies.  The  present  aim  of  Greene 
was  to  reach  the  river  Dan,  and  to  place  its  waters 
between  him  and  his  pursuers.  This  stream,  which  rises 
among  the  mountains  of  Virginia,  soon  penetrates  the 
territory  of  North  Carolina,  and,  pursuing  a  sinuous 
progress  for  a  while,  in  the  latter  state,  finally  takes  its 
way  back  into  Virginia.  "We  shall  not  follow  its  course. 
Enough  to  say,  that,  in  seasons  of  freshet,  the  upper 
fords  alone  are  passable  without  boats.  Cornwallis  nat 
urally  supposed  that  Greene  would  make  for  this  quar 
ter  ;  and  the  latter  so  manoeuvred,  in  his  progress,  as  to 
confirm  him  in  this  impression.  But  the  American  gen 
eral  had  already  determined  upon  the  route  to  the  lower 
and  deeper  crossing-place.  Without  artillery,  and  with 
an  inferior  army,  the  passage,  at  a  point  which  offered 
no  interruptions  to  the  pursuit  of  his  enemy,  would  profit 
him  little  in  any  endeavor  to  elude  his  adversary.  Nor 
was  the  route  offering  by  the  upper  Dan,  at  all  favorable 
to  the  hope  which  he  entertained  of  reinforcements  and 
supplies  from  Virginia.  These  supplies  were  of  the 


152  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

last  importance  to  his  future  strength  and  safety,  and  he 
nuturally  sought  to  increase,  by  all  means,  the  facilities 
for  their  arrival.  While  Cornwallis  was  manoeuvring 
busily,  to  intercept  and  arrest  him  in  his  flight  to  the 
upper  Dan,  Greene  encountered  his  schemes,  with  others 
admirably  calculated  to  continue  him  in  his  error.  He 
detached  from  his  army  a  force  of  seven  hundred  light 
troops,  the  command  of  which  was  assigned  to  Colonel 
Williams.  These  troops  were  composed  of  the  vete 
rans  of  the  army  —  those  who  had  fought  at  Cowpens, 
and  who  were  to  be  relied  upon.  Unencumbered  with 
baggage,  they  could  move  with  the  greatest  rapidity, 
and  their  commander  had  his  instructions  to  throw  him 
self  boldly  in  the  path  of  the  enemy.  His  detachment, 
ostensibly  a  covering  force  for  the  retreat  of  the  army, 
was,  nevertheless,  pushed  forward  in  a  direction  which 
confirmed  Cornwallis  in  the  conviction,  that  Greene  was 
aiming  at  the  upper,  or  shallow,  crossing-places  of  the 
Dan.  He  little  knew  that  his  wary  adversary  had,  with 
excellent  forethought,  provided  boats  along  the  river,  at 
its  deepest  parts,  affording  him,  at  any  moment,  the 
means  of  passage.  One  of  the  first  measures  of  hi*> 
career  in  the  south,  when  he  first  assumed  the  command 
of  the  army,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  exploration  of 
these  rivers,  and  a  meet  provision  of  the  necessary  mate 
riel  by  which  to  navigate  them.  It  was  fortunate,  at  the 
same  time,  that  the  agents  to  whom  these  duties  had 
been  assigned,  had  performed  them  with  that  secresy 
which  is  one  of  the  essential  elements  of  success  in  war. 
The  passage  of  the  lower  Dan  thus  provided  for,  it 
brought  Greene  to  the  strongest  point  in  his  own  base 
}f  operations,  nearer  than  ever  to  his  sources  of  supply, 
his  reinforcements,  and  the  magazines  which  he  had  also 
ostablished,  long  before,  upon  the  Roanoke. 

The  Dan  was  now  the  only  river  which  lay  retweei) 


RELATIONS    OF    THE    OPPOSING    ARMIES.  153 

Cornwallis  and  Virginia.  To  suffer  the  enemy  to  pass 
this  line,  and  to  form  a  junction  with  other  bodies  of  his 
arrr.y,  already  within  and  threatening  the  latter  state^ 
would  probably  complete  the  attempted  segregation  of 
the  south  from  the  confederacy.  The  eyes  of  the  nation, 
drawn  to  the  conflict  in  the  south  by  the  brilliant  and  en 
couraging  affair  at  the  Cowpens,  were  necessarily  fixed 
upon  the  progress  of  the  two  armies  in  the  inveterate  chase 
which  had  been  kept  up  by  the  British.  Never  had  the 
anxiety  of  the  country  been  more  intense  on  any  occa 
sion.  For  nearly  a  month,  the  whole  continent  seemed 
to  hang  in  breathless  anticipation,  looking  momently  in 
dread  of  some  catastrophe  which  should  end  the  fate  of 
the  southern  army.  Fear  had  finally  given  place  in 
some  degree  to  admiration,  as  the  mano3uvres  of  the 
American  general  had  so  completely  succeeded  in  baf 
fling  the  wolfish  rage  of  the  pursuer.  But  the  drama  in 
creased  in  its  interest  with  the  continuance  of  the  action, 
and  every  moment  seemed  burdened,  in  the  public  feel 
ing,  with  the  weight  of  an  empire.  The  two  rival  com 
manders  were  fully  conscious  of  this  interest,  and  of  the 
vital  importance  of  the  struggle.  The  junction  of  the 
two  divisions  of  the  American  army  having  been  effected 
at  Guilford,  Cornwallis  made  a  brief  halt  at  Salem,  even 
as  the  tiger  draws  himself  up  and  seems  to  contract  his 
dimensions,  as  in  preparation  for  the  final  spring  upon 
that  enemy,  who  has  also  nerved  himself  with  his  fullest 
strength.  Everything  in  their  respective  fortunes  de 
pended  upon  the  gain  of  a  march,  and  each  guarded 
every  movement  of  his  own,  and  scrutinized  all  those  of 
his  opponent,  by  all  the  eyes  which  armies  are  permitted 
to  employ  —  scouts,  patrols,  and  spies  —  which  followed 
every  footstep  and  reported  every  conjecture. 

A  first  ruse  de  guerre  of  Cornwallis  had  for  its  object 
to  alarm  Greene  for  the  safety  of  his  stores  at  Hillsbor- 
7* 


154          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEJ  GREENE. 

ough.  These  had  been  delayed  at  this  place,  lacking 
proper  means  of  transportation,  and  were  only  now  un 
der  way  to  a  place  of  safety.  Hillsborough  itself,  as  the 
seat  cf  government,  was  a  place,  it  was  thought,  of  suffi 
cient  importance  to  demand  the  protection  of  the  Ameri 
can  army.  Its  position,  on  the  right  of  the  road  to  Guil- 
ford,  was  directly  accessible  from  Salem.  Should  Greene 
lose  ground  in  this  direction,  he  would  be  cut  off  from 
the  Dan.  The  first  demonstration  of  Cornwallis  was 
made  on  this  route.  But  the  American  general  was  not 
to  be  overreached.  He  adroitly  turned  the  practice  of 
his  adversary  against  himself.  The  instant  progress  of 
WiYliams,  with  his  select  detachment,  in  the  direction  of 
the  apper  Dan,  induced  the  British  general  to  make  a 
movement  to  the  left,  in  the  hope  of  cutting  off  this 
party.  The  army  under  Greene,  he  fondly  assumed  to 
be  secure  —  never  dreaming  of  the  ferry-boats  —  and  be 
lieving  that  he  had  them  safely  in  a  cul  de  sac.  Williams, 
lightly  enough  equipped  for  a  race,  coolly  kept  in  front 
of  the  enemy,  always  sufficiently  near  to  be  confounded 
with  its  own  advance.  For  four  days  he  marched  thus, 
steadily  forward,  beguiling  the  enemy  still  farther  from 
his  prey.  He  had  with  him  a  force  which  could  be 
relied  upon  in  such  a  progress.  His  command  of^the 
seven  hundred  veterans  who  had  fought  at  Cowpens,had 
been  strengthened  by  the  legion  of  Lee,  the  cavalry  of 
Washington,  and  a  small  select  body  of  militia  riflemen, 
These  were  all  steady  soldiers,  ready  for  the  most  des 
perate  service,  and  Williams,  himself  a  leader  of  the 
most  experienced  courage,  was  supported  by  such  gal 
lant  captains  as  Howard  and  Carrington,  from  whose 
fearlessness  and  talent  everything  might  be  expected. 

The  scheme  of  Greene  was  successful.  Mistaking 
this  detachment  for  the  rear-guard  of  the  Americans, 
Cornwall^  at  once  contracted  his  extended  line  of  open 


STRATAGEM    OF    GREENE.  155 

aliens,  and  concentrated  all  his  efforts  upon  the  single 
object  of  overtaking  and  bringing  his  enemy  to  battle. 
Greene,  meanwhile,  was  pressing  forward  in  a  direct 
course  for  the  ferry  of  the  lower  Dan.  His  march  was 
a  painful  one,  though  utterly  unmolested.  The  cold  was 
intense,  and  the  troops  were  nearly  without  shoes  or 
clothing.  Hundreds  of  the  soldiers  tracked  the  ground 
with  bloody  feet,  and  in  a  complaint  which  one  of  the 
American  officers  utters  about  this  time,  we  find  it  sta 
ted,  that,  "  as  his  men  were  generally  barefoot,  long 
marches  had,  at  length,  incapacitated  them  from  march 
ing  at  all."  In  the  corps  best  equipped,  a  blanket  suf 
ficed  for  four  men,  and  cloaks  and  overcoats  were  luxu 
ries  such  as  the  best  provided  were  not  even  so  presump 
tuous  as  to  dream  of.  Greene  could  only  sorrow  over 
the  sufferings  which  he  had  not  the  power  to  alleviate. 
His  troops  were,  happily,  constant  in  all  their  sufferings, 
and,  with  a  perfect  confidence  in  their  leader,  and  with 
the  object  of  their  aim  in  view,  they  steadily  pressed  for 
ward,  unsinking  and  unrepining,  for  four  weary  days, 
until,  within  a  few  miles  of  the  river,  they  yielded  to  toil 
and  night,  and  snatched  a  brief  respite  of  refreshing  sle-ep, 
With  the  dawn,  they  resumed  their  march,  and,  reaching 
the  banks  of  the  Dan,  deeply  rolling  between,  they  found 
the  boats  in  readiness.  A  few  hours  sufficed  to  transport 
them  to  the  opposite  shore.  Greene,  however,  remained 
on  the  southern  bank  of  the  river,  awaiting  the  light 
troops,  while  he  sent  a  despatch  to  inform  Williams  that 
the  object  for  which  he  had  been  mystifying  Cornwallis 
had  been  gained. 

This  was  on  the  fifteenth  of  the  month.  Williams, 
meanwhile,  had  pursued  his  game  with  great  dexterity 
and  spirit.  His  first  movement  had  brought  him  directlv 
in  front  of  his  enemy,  and  drew  upon  him,  as  his  move 
ment  was  meant  to  do,  all  the  attention  of  Cornwall^ 


156  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

So  close  and  unremitting  was  now  the  pursuit  of  the 
British  general,  that  our  little  band  was  permitted  leisure 
for  but  a  single  meal  per  day,  and  even  this  was  subject 
to  interruptions  which  sometimes  spoiled  the  feast,  if  not 
the  appetite.  So  severe  was  the  duty  of  the  night,  in 
the  employment  of  pickets  and  patrols,  that,  but  six 
hours  for  sleep  in  forty-eight,  were  all  that  the  American 
colonel  could  possibly  allow  them.  Still  they  plodded 
forward  with  vast  perseverance,  through  wretched  roads, 
in  wretched  weather,  cheerfully,  under  the  necessity,  and 
gratified,  as  they  were  conscious  that  every  moment  of 
their  pursuit  served  to  insure  the  safety  of  the  main 
army.  It  was  not  simply  a  race  in  which  they  indulged. 
They  were  compelled  to  maintain  a  degree  of  vigilance 
which  allowed  them  no  moment  for  supposing  them 
selves  in  security.  The  enemy's  patrols  were  continu 
ally  upon  their  heels,  and  frequent  skirmishes  enlivened 
the  otherwise  tedious  progress.  On  one  of  these,  the 
enemy  suffered  a  loss  of  eighteen  of  Tarleton's  troopers, 
the  Americans  losing  only  a  poor  boy,  a  bugler,  who  was 
totally  unarmed,  and  was  butchered  while  he  begged 
for  mercy.  Lee,  who  commanded  the  rear-guard  in  this 
conflict,  would  have  taken  bloody  vengeance  upon  his 
murderers,  several  of  whom  were  taken  prisoners  in  the 
subsequent  affair,  but  for  the  occurrence  of  an  alarm 
which  compelled  his  attention  to  the  enemy,  while  the 
prisoners  who  were  thus  endangered,  were  sent  forward 
to  the  main  body,  under  Williams,  and  thus  saved  from 
the  sudden  wrath  of  the  indignant  cavalier.  But  the 
escape  of  the  British  dragoons  from  sharp  judgment,  was 
an  extremely  narrow  one. 

Thus,  pressing  forward,  with  little  leisure  allowed  for 
sleep  or  supper,  watching  against  surprise,  and,  with  an 
occasional  skirmish  with  their  pursuers,  the  detachment 
of  Williams  pursued  a  devious  progress  toward  the  Dan 


CLOSE    PURSUIT    OP    WILLIAMS.  157 

Four  days  had  now  elapsed,  while  he  was  engaged  in 
the  business  of  deluding  his  pursuer.  Assuming  that 
that  there  was  no  longer  a  sufficient  motive  for  keeping 
in  front  of  the  enemy,  he  proceeded  to  direct  his  course 
at  once  for  the  river.  Accordingly,  he  drew  cfF  his 
detachment  cautiously,  seeking  the  nearest  road  to  the 
crossing  place  at  Boyd's  ferry.  His  ruse  had  been  en 
tirely  successful.  So  well  had  he  played  his  game,  that 
he  had  completely  deceived  the  British  general,  who, 
until  this  moment,  never  doubted  that  he  had  the  whole 
American  army  in  front.  With  the  discovery  of  his 
error,  he  at  once  redoubled  his  efforts  to  overtake  his 
foe,  and,  striking  a  by-path  for  this  object,  found  him 
self  once  more  in  the  rear  of  Williams's  detachment. 
This  sharpened  the  appetite  of  the  pursuers,  and  forced 
the  wary  American  to  the  continued  employment  of  all 
his  vigilance  and  activity.  Cornwallis  sought  to  bring 
on  a  skirmish,  in  order  to  retard  the  flight  which  he  did 
not  seem  likely  to  overtake  ;  but  Williams  was  not  to  be 
lured  from  the  proper  path  of  safety  by  any  venture, 
however  specious  and  alluring.  Though  frequently  within 
striking  distance,  the  rear-guard  of  the  one  army  within 
gun-shot  of  the  advance  of  the  other,  the  American  marks 
men  were  studiously  kept  from  the  dangerous  impulse 
which  prompted  them  to  use  their  rifles,  though  at  the 
risk  of  bringing  on  an  unequal  general  action.  The 
stern  voice  of  discipline  prevailed  to  subdue  the  temper 
of  the  Americans  for  fight,  and  they  sped  forward, 
threatened,  wherever  their  progress  was  temporarily 
checked  by  obstacles  of  road  or  river,  by  the  fierce 
demonstrations  of  the  enemy.  But  the  collision  was 
eluded ;  the  retreating  force  maintained  its  advance  ; 
and  thus,  step  by  step,  the  British  still  pressing  on  their 
heels,  the  chase  was  continued,  through  storm  and  snow 
•—through  roads,  saturated  with  water,  chill  with  damp, 


158  LIFE     OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

or  frozen  by  cold.  Many  weary  miles  yet  lay  between 
them  and  their  point  of  destination,  when  the  night  set 
tled  down  upon  their  progress.  But,  suddenly,  they  be 
held  the  blaze  of  numerous  fires,  which  they  at  once  felt 
sure  were  those  of  Greene's  army.  The  first  impulse 
was  to  wheel  about  upon  their  pursuers,  and,  at  every 
hazard,  engage  them  in  desperate  conflict,  in  order  to 
save  the  division  of  the  army  which  they  fancied  to  be 
thus  reposing  in  delusive  security.  But  a  second  thought 
relieved  them  of  their  fear,  and  saved  them  from  this 
desperate  necessity.  Williams  knew  his  commander  too 
well  to  leave  him  in  any  doubt  as  to  that  prudence  which, 
had  he  continued  to  occupy  this  position,  would  have 
been  put  to  shame  for  ever.  He  felt  sure,  as,  in  the 
sequel,  it  proved,  that  the  fires  which  he  saw  blazing 
were  those  which  Greene  had  left  to  burn  when  he  re 
sumed  his  march.  He  had  put  his  troops  in  motion  sev 
eral  hours  before,  and  Williams  snatched  a  brief  interval 
of  rest,  which  a  halt  of  the  British  now  afforded  him,  for 
sleeping  upon  the  ground  which  his  general  had  previ 
ously  occupied. 

Here  the  Americans  slept  till  midnight.  The  British, 
having  built  their  fires  also,  offered  no  farther  present 
molestation.  With  the  midnight,  the  former  were  again 
in  motion.  They  were  still  forty  miles  from  the  place 
of  safety,  and  every  moment  became  precious  for  secu 
rity.  The  necessity  was  equally  great  with  Cornwallis. 
To  suffer  his  prey  to  escape  him,  was  to  endanger  his 
own  security,  and  materially  to  discredit  his  generalship. 
The  detachment  of  Williams  was  almost  within  his 
grasp,  and,  not  dreaming  of  the  boats  which  Greene  had 
provided  in  advance  of  the  necessity,  he  fondly  hoped  to 
gather  both  divisions,  on  this  side  the  Dan,  at  one  fell 
swoop  of  his  superior  forces.  The  chase  became  more 
desperate  than  ever.  The  energies  of  both  parties  were 


ESCAPE    OF    THE    AMERICANS.  159 

strung  to  the  utmost,  a  nervous  will  stimulating  exertion 
almost  beyond  the  endurance  of  the  physical  capacity. 
Over  ground  now  hard  and  frozen,  through  the  imper 
fect  shadows  of  the  night,  pursuer  and  pursued  went 
forward  on  their  doubtful  way.  Day  dawned,  and  the 
British  van  was  once  more  within  speaking  distance  of 
the  American  rear.  And  thus  continued  the  relation 
ship  of  the  two  bodies  throughout  the  morning.  Ex 
haustion  craved  a  respite.  One  hour,  before  noon,  was 
stolen  for  refreshment,  and  the  progress  was  resumed. 
Soon,  however,  the  Americans  were  cheered  with  the 
tidings  of  Greene's  safety,  with  the  army,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river.  His  express  encountered  Williams,  at 
noon,  with  this  grateful  intelligence.  The  boats  were 
in  waiting  for  his  detachment ;  and  the  prospect  of  a 
long  rest  and  certain  security,  was  at  length  before  them. 
It  needed  but  one  more  effort,  and  this,  with  men  thus 
encouraged,  was  easily  made.  They  would  soon  link 
arms  with  their  comrades,  and  this  reflection  put  new 
life  into  their  veins.  The  toils  already  overcome  were 
all  forgotten,  in  the  repose  which  was  promised  them  at 
last.  When  within  fifteen  miles  of  the  Dan,  a  move 
ment  was  made  by  which  the  greater  part  of  the  de 
tachment  was  drawn  off,  and  led,  by  the  shortest  path 
way,  to  the  ferry.  The  legion  of  Lee,  meanwhile,  keep 
ing  in  front  of  the  enemy,  and  occupying  his  attention. 
The  infantry  of  the  legion  next  followed  the  march  of 
Williams,  leaving  the  cavalry  between  them  and  the 
foe  ;  and  the  cavalry,  in  due  season,  made  their  appear 
ance  at  the  river,  which  had  now  been  passed  by  all  the 
foot.  Night  was  already  over  the  Dan,  when  the  troop 
ers,  leading  their  horses  by  the  rein,  and  forcing  them 
into  the  river,  entered  the  returning  boats.  They,  too, 
wore  crossed  over  in  safety,  their  last  files  ascending 
the  northern  bank  of  the  Dan  as  the  advance  of  the 


160  LIFE    OF    NAT1IANAEL     GREENE. 

British  rushed  into  sight  upon  the  southern.  The  prey 
had  entirely  escaped  them.  The  river  was  unfordable; 
the  boats  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Americans ;  and,  for 
the  present^,  pursuit  was  entirely  cut  off. 


THE    RIVAL    ARMIES.  161 


CHAPTER   XL 

The  Annies  watch  each  other. — The  Militia  collect  under  Pickeiis  am; 
Caswell. — Cornwallis  retires  upon  Hillsborough. — Greene  recrosses  the 
Dan. — Pickens  and  Lee  operate  successfully  upon  the  British  Detach 
ments. — Sanguinary  Defeat  of  Loyalists  under  Pyles,  and  Pursuit  of 
Tarleton. 

THE  feelings  with  which  Cornwallis  contemplated  the 
American  army,  in  safety,  upon  the  opposite  banks  of  the 
Dan,  and,  for  the  present,  totally  unapproachable,  may 
be  better  imagined  than  described.  Without  a  blow  be 
ing  struck,  Greene  had  gained  a  most  important  victory; 
and  the  reputation  of  the  British  general,  and  the  cause 
in  which  he  was  engaged,  was  destined  to  suffer  propor 
tionally.  The  remarkable  chase  and  escape  which  we 
have  just  recorded,  was  one  of  the  most  impressive  of 
the  incidents  of  the  war.  It  had  riveted  the  attention  of 
both  friends  and  foes,  from  the  moment  of  its  beginning, 
on  the  southern  side  of  tbe  Catawba,  to  the  time  when  it 
ended  by  throwing  the  swollen  waters  of  the  Dan  between 
the  opposing  armies.  The  public  mind  of  America, 
sensible  of  the  condition  of  Greene's  army,  its  poverty 
in  clothing  and  munitions,  its  inferior  numbers,  and  the 
vast  stake  which  the  country  had  in  its  safety,  was  natu 
rally  wrought  up  to  a  pitch  of  the  most  intense  and  eager 
anxiety.  It  was  not  expected  that  Greene  should  cope 
with  his  enemy  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  For  that, 
the  wide  disparity  of  strength  and  equipment,  between 
the  British  and  Americans,  had  rendered  impossible 


162  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

That  lie  should  escape  defeat  and  captivity  was  their 
only  object ;  and,  his  doing  this,  under  the  circumstances, 
was  to  obtain  the  victory.  He  had  led  his  little  forces 
through  a  perilous  extent  of  country,  more  than  two 
hundred  miles,  in  the  breaking-up  of  winter,  amid  cold, 
hunger,  and  nakedness,  over  roads  saturated  with  inces 
sant  rains,  and  with  an  eager,  enterprising,  well-clad 
enemy,  in  superior  numbers,  closely  pressing  at  his  heels. 
He  had  successfully  deluded  that  enemy,  and  had  baffled 
the  pursuit.  There  was  but  one  opinion  as  to  his  supe 
rior  generalship.  Washington  writes:  "Your  retreat 
before  Cornwallis  is  highly  applauded  by  all  ranks,  and 
reflects  much  honor  on  your  military  abilities."  Tarle- 
ton  adds  to  this  the  testimony  of  an  enemy,  when  he 
says  that  "  every  measure  of  the  Americans,  during  their 
march  from  the  Catawba  to  Virginia,  was  judiciously 
designed  and  vigorously  executed." 

The  army,  itself,  was  by  no  means  unconscious  of  the 
importance  of  their  escape,  and  of  the  superior  general 
ship  by  which  it  had  been  effected.  Great  was  the 
exultation,  and  general  the  felicitation,  in  the  American 
camp,  on  the  night  of  the  15th  of  February.  The  sol 
dier  had  a  respite  from  pursuit.  He  was  permitted, 
once  more,  to  sleep  in  security.  The  separate  divisions, 
once  more  united,  could  while  away  the  weariness  of 
the  night,  by  comparing  their  several  experiences  during 
the  march  ;  and,  in  full  feeling  of  the  success  which  had 
crowned  their  efforts,  indulge  in  delightful  anticipations 
of  still  more  fortunate  results,  from  future  enterprises, 
waged  under  circumstances  more  auspicious.  But,  the 
care  which  they  could  mock,  clung  still  to  the  side  of 
their  commander,  and  drove  sleep  from  his  pillow.  AVe 
have  numerous  proofs,  in  the  letters  which  he  wrote  this 
night,  while  others  slept,  of  a  spirit  ill  at  ease  —  a  mind 
unsatisfied,  amid  all  its  successes,  that  so  much  remained 


GREENES  LABORS  AND  POLICY.          133 

undone,  which  should  be  done,  but,  for  the  performance 
of  which,  no  adequate  means  had  been  allowed  him. 
The  army  was  saved,  it  was  true ;  but,  another  southern 
state  had  been  yielded  to  the  ravages  of  the  enemy. 
The  Fabian  system,  which  Greene  pursued  no  less  than 
Washington,  might  save  the  troops,  but  at  the  expense 
of  the  country.  The  reproach,  however,  could  not  bo 
urged  against  the  general,  while  the  troops  did  not  ap 
pear  ;  and,  borrowing  the  words  of  the  great  Frederick, 
Greene  cried  aloud,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul:  "Oh! 
that,  of  the  thousand  who  remain  in  idleness  at  home, 
I  had  only  a  few  hundred  with  me  in  the  field."  The 
flames  of  forei'gn  war  were  spreading,  and  he  was 
permitted  only  to  survey  them.  To  arrest  them  was  the 
pregnant  necessity  before  him,  and  the  safety  of  the 
army  was  but  temporary  only.  Well  might  care  and 
anxiety  drive  slumber  from  his  eyelids.  His  toils  had 
not  been  less  than  those  of  the  meanest  soldier,  and  his 
respite  had  been  even  less.  From  the  day  when  he  had 
ridden,  almost  alone,  through  a  hostile  country,  from  his 
own  to  the  camp  of  Morgan  on  the  Catawba,  he  had  never 
once  undressed  himself  for  sleep.  His  slumbers  had 
been  snatched  by  the  wayside — imperfect  moments,  in 
which  nature  rather  yielded  to  exhaustion,  than  to  a  desire 
for  and  satisfaction  from  repose.  The  days  of  halt,  which 
were  accorded  to  his  troops  for  rest  and  recreation,  were 
employed  by  their  commander  only  in  newer  toils  and 
fresher  exertions.  His  correspondence,  written  at  pe 
riods  thus  stolen  equally  from  the  saddle  and  from  sleep, 
is  singularly  various,  and  in  proof  of  a  mind  that  ranged 
through  all  the  departments  under  his  care,  and  suffered 
the  interests  of  none  to  escape  his  scrutiny.  The  pres 
ent  and  future  condition  of  the  army — the  state  of  the 
country,  its  resources  and  dangers  —  the  character  of 
the  militia,  and  its  improvement — the  commissariat  and 


164  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

other  departments,  —  these  employed  him  in  unremitted 
labors  —  in  continued  appeals;  now  writing  to  leading 
men  throughout  the  nation,  now  to  the  governors  of  the 
several  states,  and  now  to  those  who  were  specially  con 
nected  with  the  progress  of  his  immediate  command. 
It  is  surprising,  with  what  equal  comprehensiveness  and 
circumspection  these  letters  were  written.  Nothing, 
necessary  to  the  detail,  is  deficient ;  while  the  governing 
intelligence  which  presides  over  the  whole,  exhibits  a 
capacity  for  generalization,  which  leaves  nothing  want 
ing  to  thought.  Yet,  these  letters  may  be  said  to  have 
been  written  in  the  saddle,  amid  the  continual  confusion 
and  interruptions  of  the  camp,  or  in  those  hours  of 
repose  and  silence,  when  sleep  would  seem  to  be  quite 
as  necessary  to  the  general  as  to  his  troops.  His  cor 
respondence  with  Patrick  Henry,  Jefferson,  Washington, 
Steuben,  and  others,  betrays  the  most  indefatigable  pa 
tience  arid  industry,  mingled  with  an  anxiety  which  the 
stern  sense  of  patriotic  duty,  alone,  enables  him  to  sub 
due.  He  felt  that  his  present  respite  was  temporary; 
that  the  game  must  be  quickly  renewed ;  that,  with  the 
falling  of  the  waters  of  the  Dan,  the  British  would  again 
resume  the  pursuit ;  and  that  he  must,  once  more,  adopt 
the  humiliating  necessity  of  farther  flight,  unless  he  could 
secure  seasonable  reinforcements.  To  this  object,  then, 
he  addressed  himself;  and,  consulting  all  the  difficulties 
of  his  situation,  calculated,  with  intense  application,  the 
problem  of  chances,  in  regard  to  his  own  and  the  move 
ments  of  his  enemy.  With  reinforcements,  the  British 
general  was  almost  in  his  grasp.  But,  could  he  rely  on 
the  delusive  promises  which  had  been  so  often,  and  so 
fruitlessly,  made  him  ]  He  had  been  fed  on  promises, 
decrees,  and  resolutions ;  and  his  faith  was  grievously 
shaken  in  those  assurances  of  Congresses  and  governors, 
which  had  so  frequently  held 


THE    OPPOSING    ARMIES.  165 

"  The  word  of  promise  to  his  ear, 
To  break  it  to  his  hope." 

He  was  told  that  the  Virginians  and  North-Carolinians 
were  about  to  pour  in  and  fill  his  ranks,  and  that  Steu- 
ben  was  hurrying  on  a  body  of  recruits  for  the  Virginia 
regiments ;  but  days  and  weeks  might  elapse  before 
these  could  reach  headquarters,  and  the  time  for  ac 
tion  and  successful  operations  was  momentarily  escaping 
him.  The  river,  on  the  16th,  it  was  announced,  was 
rapidly  falling.  This  added  to  Greene's  perplexities  ;  it 
compelled  him  to  determine  quickly.  The  fords  were 
numerous  at  low  stages  of  the  water,  and  a  farther 
retreat  appeared  inevitable.  In  anticipation  of  this  ne 
cessity,  the  baggage  of  the  American  army  was  sent  for 
ward  to  Halifax,  and  orders  were  given  to  prepare  means 
for  making  good  the  passage  of  the  river  Staunton. 
The  troops  were  ordered  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness 
for  marching,  as  soon  as  the  necessity  became  imperative 
for  a  farther  retreat.  These  arrangements  made,  the 
two  armies  remained  in  tranquillity,  watching  the  rivoi 
and  each  other. 

It  was,  to  Greene,  the  most  tantalizing  thing  in  the 
world,  that,  with  the  British  fairly  in  his  clutches,  he  had 
not  the  power  to  contract  his  folds  upon  them.  The 
situation  of  Cornwallis,  had  the  American  force  been  in 
the  situation  to  take  advantage  of  it,  was  perilous  in  the 
Extreme.  The  British  general,  in  his  avidity  after  his 
prey,  had  pursued  so  far,  as  to  make  his  advance  and 
retreat  equally  hazardous.  He  had  withdrawn  himself 
to  a  distance  from  his  garrisons,  and  was  without  stores 
or  magazines.  His  hope  lay  in  his  own  audacity,  energy, 
and  the  errors  of  his  wily  opponent.  Greene  felt  this, 
and  his  watchfulness  was  redoubled.  Still,  he  had  hopes 
of  something  better  than  being  merely  able  to  elude  his 
pursuer.  Could  he  receive  his  recruits  and  supplies  in 


160  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

season,  it  might  be  possible  to  end  the  war  by  the  cap» 
ture  of  a  second  British  army.  But  this  prospect  could 
depend  only  on  the  reinforcements  promised  him.  Small 
as  was  the  force  which  he  had,  the  severe  marches  which 
he  had  been  compelled  to  take,  had  still  farther  lessened 
its  numbers,  and  impaired  its  efficiency.  It  was  still 
winter,  and  the  clothing  of  his  best-clad,  men  was  suitable 
only  for  the  summer.  Many  were  still  naked.  The 
effect  of  this  condition  may  be  seen  from  the  returns  of 
the  Maryland  line,  one  of  the  noblest  bodies  of  troops 
which  the  war  had  seen.  With  eight  hundred  and  sixty- 
one  fit  for  duty,  two  hundred  and  seventy-four  were  in 
the  hospitals.  The  whole  force  in  camp,  fit  for  duty,  on 
the  17th,  was  but  one  thousand  and  seventy-eight  infan 
try,  sixty-four  artillery,  one  hundred  and  seventy-six 
cavalry,  legionary  infantry  one  hundred  and  twelve,  and 
the  militia  of  Pickens  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  number. 
"  How  is  it  possible,"  Greene  asks,  "  for  an  army  circum 
stanced  like  ours,  to  make  head  against  one  organized 
and  equipped  like  that  of  Cornwallis  V1 

But  the  hopes  brightened  with  delay.  At  the  very 
moment  when  Greene  was  apprehensive  that  he  should 
be  forced  to  resume  the  retreat,  he  had  intelligence  of  a 
considerable  increase  to  the  militia  force  under  Pickens. 
The  latter  had  succeeded  in  raising  a  body  of  seven  hun 
dred  men.  and  was  now  approaching  the  enemy's  left. 
General  Caswell,  at  the  same  time,  with  another  body  of 
militia,  was  making  a  similar  demonstration  on  the 
opposite  flank  of  the  British.  These  movements  disqui 
eted  Cornwallis.  They  no  longer  left  him  the  option 
of  pursuit.  The  atmosphere  was  not  sufficiently  friendly 
for  the  health  of  his  troops,  ard  he  prepared  to  change 
the  air.  Greene  waited  for  this  movement  only  to  recrose 
the  river.  The  waving  of  a  handkerchief  from  a  friendly 
female,  under  cover  of  the  bank,  apprized  the  Americans 


BRITISH    MARCH    TO    IIILLSBOROUGH.  167 

that  the  British  were  under  march.  AJ  soon  as  this 
signal  was  made,  the  army  of  Greene  was  put  in  motion. 
A  small  detachment  of  picked  men,  under  Major  Bur- 
net,  led  the  way  across  the  river,  and  prepared  to  hang 
upon  the  enemy's  skirts  and  report  their  movements. 
They  were  followed  by  Lee,  with  his  legion,  whose 
instructions  were  to  harass  their  progress,  and  snatch 
every  opportunity  for  cutting  off  their  pickets  and  smaller 
parties.  As  yet,  the  main  body  of  the  army  did  not  fol 
low.  There  were  reasons  why  it  should  remain  in 
reserve,  particularly  as  the  destination  of  Cornwallis  was 
still  unknown.  Apprehensions  were  felt  for  the  safety  of 
Halifax,  on  the  Roanoke,  a  place  combining  numerous 
advantages,  of  such  a  character  as  to  determine  the 
American  general  to  risk  a  battle  in  its  defence.  To 
strengthen  this  position,  Kosciuzko  had  been  already 
despatched,  as  an  engineer,  to  superintend  the  construc 
tion  of  fortifications ;  and  the  eye  of  Greene  was  fixed 
upon  this  point,  as  one  which,  in  the  possession  of  the 
enemy,  would  give  him  a  position  which  might  equally 
control  the  Carolinas  and  Virginia.  To  prevent  this,  at 
all  hazards,  it  became  important  that  he  should  be  in  a 
situation  to  fly  to  the  defence  of  the  place  at  the  first 
appearance  of  danger. 

But,  Cornwallis  was  not  slow  in  the  development  of 
his  game.  His  encampment  on  the  Dan  was  broken  up 
on  the  18th  of  February.  At  first,  his  course  left  it 
doubtful  whether  he  meant  to  cross  the  river  at  one  of 
the  upper  ferries,  in  order  to  continue  his  attempt  upon 
the  main  army  of  Greene,  or  to  strike  a  blow  at  the 
militia  force  of  Pickens.  As  he  continued  to  advance, 
the  magazines  on  the  Roanoke  were  supposed  to  be 
threatened.  But,  soon,  all  doubts  were  ended,  as  he 
suddenly  wheeled  about,  turning  his  back  upon  the  Dan, 
and  marching,  direct,  to  Hillsborough.  Here  he  planted 


168  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL     GREENE. 

the  royal  standard,  and  issued  a  proclamation  to  all 
good  and  faithful  subjects  to  repair  to  it.  The  region 
was,  professedly,  a  loyal  one ;  and  large  calculations 
might,  reasonably,  be  made  upon  the  alacrity  with  which 
this  summons  would  be  obeyed.  At  first,  the  prospect 
was  very  encouraging  of  a  large  accession  to  his  num 
bers.  His  pursuit  of  Greene,  his  presence  on  the  spot 
in  force,  both  conspired  to  stimulate  the  tories,  and  de 
press  and  discourage  the  whigs.  Seven  companies  of 
the  former  were  reported,  in  one  day,  as  in  course  of 
organization.  For  three  days,  the  promise  continued  of 
this  character ;  but,  suddenly,  these  hopeful  auxiliaries 
disappeared,  and  their  absence  was  sufficiently  accounted 
for  by  the  tidings  that  Greene  was  again  on  the  southern 
bank  of  the  Dan,  while  Pickens  and  Lee  were,  already, 
engaged  in  reconnoitring  the  camp  of  the  British.  It 
was  with  increased  bitterness  that  Cornwallis  felt  his 
disappointment  and  perceived  his  danger.  It  was  on 
this  occasion  that  he  wrote  to  the  ministry,  that  lie  was 
"  surrounded  by  timid  friends  and  inveterate  enemies." 
It  was  now  his  necessity  to  fight  with  Green,  if  possible- 
In  no  other  way  could  he  hope  to  dissipate  his  dan 
gers,  and  break  through  the  meshes  by  which  he  was 
environed. 

The  Americans  had  received  accessions  of  force  from 
several  quarters.  He  had  suffered  none  of  the  move 
ments  of  Cornwallis  to  escape  him.  At  first,  supposing 
that  the  British  general  aimed  to  escape  to  the  coast  by 
Wilmington,  he  determined  to  throw  himself  across  his 
path,  and  delay  his  progress,  until  the  final  issue  could 
be  brought  about  under  favorable  auspices.  "  If  we  can 
Jelay  Cornwallis  for  a  day  or  two,"  is  his  language,  "  he 
must  be  ruined."  Pickens  and  Lee  were  pushed  for 
ward  with  the  utmost  rapidity — the  legion  of  the  latter 
being  strengthened  by  a  couple  of  companies  of  Mary- 


PARTISAN    MOVEMENTS.  169 

landers.  They  were  to  hang  upon  his  rear,  and  harass 
him  with  all  their  energies  ;  and  better  chieftains  for 
such  a  purpose  could  not  have  been  chosen 

But  Comwallis  was  not  the  soldier  to  retreat  while  the 
sword  could  possibly  cut  asunder  the  web  which  sur 
rounded  him.  It  was  soon  ascertained  that  he  was  in 
no  hurry  to  depart;  and  Greene's  apprehensions  were 
greatly  excited  by  the  reported  progress  which  the  British 
general  was  making  in  the  enrolment  of  the  tories  about 
his  standard.  These  tidings  contributed  to  determine 
him  upon  recrossing  the  Dan.  To  close  around  Corn- 
wallis,  to  cut  off  his  supplies,  prevent  a  general  rising  of 
the  loyalists,  and  cut  them  up  in  detail,  before  they  could 
reach  the  royal  army,  was  the  policy  of  the  American 
commander.  His  light  troops  were  everywhere  set  in 
motion  for  these  objects.  The  disposition  of  Pickens  and 
Lee  had  already  brought  them  within  striking  distance 
of  the  British  camp  ;  —  Otho  Williams  was  again  in  the 
field,  with  the  excellent  legion  which  he  had  so  lately  led 
in  successful  retreat;  —  Stevens,  with  a  thousand  volun 
teers,  had  returned  from  Virginia;  —  Butler  was  in  mo 
tion,  with  a  considerable  body  of  North-Carolinians;  — 
and  a  brisk  business  was  soon  begun  by  these  separate 
detachments,  having  for  their  object  the  clipping  of  the 
British  claws,  and  such  a  contraction  of  their  powers,  as 
to  compel  their  final  surrender  or  annihilation. 

It  was  on  the  20th  of  February  that  Cornwallis  erected 
his  standard  at  Hillsborough.  On  the  23d,  Greene  re- 
crossed  the  Dan  with  his  whole  army.  The  day  before 
this,  a  detachment  from  Pickens's  command,  led  by 
Colonel  M'Call,  had  surprised  and  earned  off  a  British 
picket,  only  two  miles  from  the  royal  camp.  This  was 
an  audacity  too  great  to  be  endured,  and  Tarleton  was 
despatched,  with  a  strong  force  of  horse  and  foot,  to  keep 
the  Americans  within  bounds,  and  afford  all  encourage- 
8 


170  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL     GREENE. 

ment  to  the  rising  loyalists.  Meantime,  Pickens  had 
formed  a  junction  with  Lee,  and  had  been  advised  of 
Tarleton's  expedition.  This  was  so  much  grist  to  their 
mill.  They  determined  to  have  it  so.  With  dawn  they 
set  forth  in  search  of  the  British  legion.  Tarleton,  with 
his  usual  devastating  ferocity,  had  sufficiently  traced  out 
his  route  for  the  pursuers.  They  had  but  to  follow  his 
trail  of  fire  —  the  smoking  habitations  of  the  whigs 
marking,  for  many  miles,  his  progress.  So  rapid  was  the 
pursuit  of  the  Americans,  that,  by  noon,  they  were  within 
three  miles  of  the  place  where  Tarleton  had  stopped  to 
dine.  Unconscious  of  their  proximity,  he  had  moved 
away  in  season,  and  had  passed  the  Haw  at  the  first  conve 
nient  ford.  It  was  while  rapidly  pressing  forward  in  the 
pursuit,  hoping  that  he  might  be  overtaken  before  night, 
that  the  path  of  the  Americans  was  suddenly  crossed  by 
a  strong  party  of  tories,  under  Colonel  Pyles.  These 
were  dispersed,  but  not  without  great  slaughter,  in  con 
sequence  of  a  mistake  of  the  unfortunate  tories,  who  con 
founded  Lee's  with  Tarleton's  legion,  and  only  com 
menced  firing  at  a  moment  when  the  effort  was  fruitless 
for  defence,  and  served  only  to  provoke  the  fury  of  the 
militia.  The  delay  was  a  serious  hinderance  to  the  pur 
suit  of  Tarleton.  It  brought  on  darkness.  Neverthe 
less,  Pickens  resolved  not  to  rest  until  he  had  thrown 
himself  between  the  British  dragoons  and  certain  detach 
ments  of  whig  militia  under  Colonel  Preston  and  others, 
which  Tarleton  was  aiming  to  cut  off.  It  was  fortu 
nate  that  he  adopted  this  resolution,  as  he  succeeded  that 
night  in  uniting  Preston's  and  the  other  bodies  of  mili 
tia  with  his  own  force,  adding  to  its  strength,  and  saving 
them  from  the  edge  of  Tarleton's  sabre.  The  force  of 
Pickens,  increased  by  these  auxiliaries,  was  now  very 
decidedly  superior  to  that  of  Tarleton.  It  consisted  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  excellent  bayonets,  three  hundred 


ATTEMPTS    UPON    TARLETON.  171 

militia  marksmen,  and  the  command  of  Preston,  three 
hundred  more.  The  cavalry  of  M'Call  and  Lee,  though 
less  in  numbers  than  that  of  Tarleton,  was  better  mount 
ed,  and  of  far  better  material.  The  command  of  Tarle 
ton  composed  all  the  cavalry  of  the  British  army,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  infantry,  and  two  pieces  of  artillery. 
Could  the  Americans  but  overtake  and  overcome  this 
detachment,  the  army  of  Cornwallis  was  at  their  mercy. 
Deprived  of  his  cavalry,  and  of  so  large  a  portion 
of  his  infantry,  he  must  have  sought  safety  in  flight; 
and  the  result  of  such  an  attempt,  in  a  country  swarm 
ing  with  mounted  militia,  need  not  be  matter  of  doubt  or 
speculation. 

The  fate  of  Cornwallis  lay  in  other  hands,  however  those 
of  Greene  may  have  paved  the  way  for  it.  Tarleton,  him 
self,  never  dreamed  of  the  enemy  that  was  at  his  heels. 
He  had  actually  drawn  up  his  men  at  midnight,  arrang 
ing  for  the  capture  of  Preston  and  his  volunteers.  But 
Cornwallis  was  more  apprehensive,  and,  consequently 
more  vigilant.  He  had  received  advices  of  the  advance 
of  the  American  army,  and  trembled  for  the  fate  of  the 
detachment  in  the  hands  of  his  dragoon.  He  dreaded 
lest  another  affair  like  that  at  the  Cowpens  should  utterly 
ruin  him,  and  courier  after  courier,  to  the  number  of 
three,  was  despatched  by  the  British  commander  in  pur 
suit  of  Tarleton,  apprizing  him  of  his  danger,  and  recal 
ling  him  instantly  to  camp.  The  British  colonel  obeyed; 
and  with  such  equal  caution  and  precipitation,  that  he 
had  gained  nearly  two  hours  of  his  march  before  his 
movement  was  discovered  by  the  scouts  of  the  Ameri 
cans.  With  the  first  intimation  of  his  departure,  Pick- 
ens  was  on  the  alert.  His  detachment  was  set  in  motion, 
though  at  midnight,  and  the  pursuit  was  instantly  begun. 
So  dark  was  the  night,  when  this  movement  was  made, 
that  the  troops  were  obliged  to  employ  torches  of  light" 


1  72  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

wooa  (resinous  pine)  to  light  them  on  their  progress. 
Yet  so  earnest  was  the  pursuit,  that,  when  the  first  files 
of  the  Americans  reached  the  banks  of  the  Haw,  the 
rear-guard  of  the  enemy  was  just  ascending  the  heights 
of  the  opposite  shore.  Here  the  pursuit  was  arrested. 
The  British  colonel,  planting  his  artillery  in  a  position  to 
command  the  ford,  and  occupying  such  a  position  with 
his  infantry  as  to  give  his  cannon  the  best  support,  ren 
dered  the  passage  quite  too  hazardous  to  be  attempted. 
The  Americans  were  without  artillery.  To  attempt  the 
passage  at  another  ford  would  be  only  to  afford  the 
enemy  such  an  advantage  in  the  race  as  no  subsequent 
efforts  could  overcome ;  at  all  events,  not  before  he  had 
been  reinforced  by  support  from  the  British  camp.  And 
thus  it  was,  that  the  prey  was  snatched  from  the  grasp  of 
the  American  general  almost  at  the  very  moment  when 
his  fingers  were  about  to  close  upon  it.  But  the  expe 
dition  had  proved  of  the  greatest  uses.  The  recruits  of 
the  whig  militia  had  been  saved  from  disaster,  their  friends 
had  been  encouraged,  while  the  tory  force  under  Pyles, 
four  hundred  in  number,  had  been  cut  to  pieces,  and  the 
loyalists  disheartened  by  a  disaster  so  unexpected,  and  a 
punishment  so  sanguinary. 


AMERICAN    POLICY.  173 


CHAPTER   Xll. 

Strategies  of  the  two  Armies. — Cornwallis  surrounded  by  the  Partisoils. 
— Their  Activity  and  Audacity. — He  attempts  to  elude  them,  and 
cut  Greene  off  from  his  Detachments. — He  pursues  Williams,  who 
escapes  him. — Cornwallis  retires,  and  Greene  prepares  for  Action. 

THE  operations  of  Pickens  and  Lee,  though  only  in 
part  successful,  were  yet  productive  of  the  happiest 
results,  particularly  in  discouraging  the  loyalists  from 
taking  the  field.  They  afforded,  thus,  an  auspicious 
beginning  of  that  new  enterprise,  on  the  part  of  the  com 
mander  of  the  American  forces,  which  had  prompted 
him  to  recross  the  Dan.  Greene,  meanwhile,  lost  no 
time  in  making  himself  ready  for  the  field.  Inferior 
still,  in  strength,  to  his  adversary,  and  sadly  wanting  in 
equipments,  he  felt  the  necessity  of  incurring  a  risk  in 
the  endeavor  to  prevent  Cornwallis  from  utterly  over 
running  the  "  old  north  state,"  as  he  had  overrun  South 
Carolina.  Though  not  in  sufficient  strength  to  measure 
weapons  with  the  British  general,  it  was  still  in  his  power 
to  defeat  his  leading  objects,  by  cutting  off  his  detach 
ments,  arresting  the  proceedings  of  the  disaffected,  and 
giving  encouragement,  by  his  activity  and  presence,  to 
those  who  were  friendly  to  the  whig  cause.  For  these 
purposes,  he  was  particularly  well  provided  in  the  proper 
officers.  With  Pickens  to  conduct  the  militia  riflemen  ; 
with  Lee  to  guide  the  impetuous  movements  of  the 
legion ;  with  Williams  to  show  himself,  ubiquitously 
wHh  his  active  and  veteran  light  infantry,  —  he 


1V4  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    iiREENE. 

possessed  of  so  many  wings,  rapidly  wheeling  at  every 
movement  of  the  enemy,  harassing  him  in  his  enterprises, 
and  keeping  him,  for  ever,  in  a  feverish  state  of  doubt 
and  insecurity.  These  able  leaders  were  all  kept  well- 
informed  of  the  desires  of  their  commander.  Attended 
only  by  a  small  escort  of  "Washington's  dragoons,  Greene 
made  his  way  across  the  country,  to  the  separate  camps 
of  these  several  detachments,  earnestly,  but  affection 
ately,  counselling  with  them  on  his  and  their  future  prog 
ress.  From  the  wigwam  of  green  bushes  that  formed 
the  shelter  of  Pickens  and  Lee,  he  sped  to  the  camp  of 
Williams,  suffering  nothing  to  escape  his  observation  in 
regard  to  their  common  enterprise.  Hard  was  the 
hourly  toil  which  this  sort  of  progress  imposed  upon 
him  and  them.  Sorry  were  the  fare  and  shelter  in  the 
forest  tent  of  Pickens  ;  and  the  two  generals,  after  long 
consultation,  wrapped  in  their  cloaks,  were  compelled  to 
seek  for  the  necessary  warmth,  and  snatch  a  brief  term 
of  repose,  in  the  folds  of  a  single  blanket.  The  object 
of  Greene  in  this  hazardous  visit,  in  which  he  narrowly 
escaped  contact  with  the  legion  of  Tarleton,  was  to 
obtain  information,  to  prepare  his  partisans  for  the  antici 
pated  escape  of  Cornwallis,  and  to  urge  them  to  the 
suppression  of  the  loyalists  who  had  appointed  the  forks 
of  the  Haw  and  Deep  rivers  as  their  place  of  rendez 
vous.  But,  soon  satisfied  that  Cornwallis  no  longer  con 
templated  flight — that  he  had  deluded  himself  with  the 
idea  that  the  state  was  fairly  in  his  power — and  that 
his  army  would  be  sufficiently  strengthened  against  the 
Americans,  by  his  tory  recruits,  to  enable  him  to  make  a 
stand,  and  seek  once  more  the  final  issue,  —  Greene  saw 
that  nothing,  now,  remained  to  be  done,  but  to  prepare 
for  the  decisive  struggle.  He  proceeded,  therefore,  to 
hasten  on  his  reinforcements,  occupying,  meanwhile, 
with  the  main  army,  such  a  position  as  would  best  enable 


CORNWALLIS  SEEKS  GREENE.  175 

him  to  cover  their  concentration,  and  cut  off  the  commu 
nication  of  the  enemy  with  the  upper  country.  With 
these  views,  the  army,  having  crossed  the  Dan,  was 
marched  toward  the  head-waters  of  the  Haw,  on  the 
route  to  Guilford.  To  keep  the  field  between  the  Haw 
and  the  Dan,  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty;  but  tho 
very  hazard  of  the  service  had  its  recommendation,  as  it 
afforded  to  the  volunteers  that  active  employment  and 
constant  exercise,  which  can  alone  satisfy  the  eager  and 
impetuous  nature,  which  the  unperforming  life  of  the 
camp  would  only  discourage  and  disgust.  The  demon 
stration  had  its  uses  for  other  reasons.  It  encouraged, 
with  a  show  of  confidence  and  strength,  the  more  tim 
orous  friends  of  the  cause  throughout  the  country,  and 
impressed  upon  its  enemies  a  sense  of  respect,  which, 
necessarily,  exaggerated  the  strength  of  the  Americans, 
and  made  them  doubtful  of  their  own.  The  audacity 
and  activity  of  the  light  troops  of  Greene's  army,  under 
their  accomplished  leaders,  constituted  another  guaranty 
for  his  security.  We  have  had  a  sample  of  their  uses, 
in  beating  up  the  quarters  of  the  enemy,  cutting  off  their 
pickets  and  detachments,  preventing  their  supplies,  and 
quelling  the  spirit  of  their  allies.  With  such  partisan 
officers,  the  wings  and  the  eyes  of  the  army,  Greene's 
own  sagacity,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  character  of 
Cornwallis,  enabled  him  to  do  the  rest.  The  coolness, 
forethought,  and  circumspection  of  the  one,  even  with 
inferior  forces,  were  well  opposed  to,  and  a  sufficient 
match  for,  the  imperious  will,  impetuous  haste,  and  san 
guine  impulse  of  the  other. 

As  soon  as  Tarleton  had  rejoined  the  royal  army, 
Cornwallis  prepared  for  active  operations.  He  pene 
trated  the  objects  of  Greene,  and  felt  the  necessity  of 
counteracting  them,  if  possible.  With  this  view,  he 
abandoned  Hillsborough  on  the  26th  of  February,  and 


t76  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

threw  himself  across  the  Haw,  taking  post  near  Alemance 
creek,  one  of  the  principal  tributaries  of  that  river.  This 
movement  had  for  its  object  to  cut  Greene  off  from  the 
upper  country,  to  enable  the  British  troops  to  cover  the 
uprising  of  the  loyalists,  and  to  forage  in  a  region,  the 
resources  of  which  were,  comparatively,  abundant.  The 
design  was  skilfully  conceived,  and  reduced  the  American 
general  to  three  alternatives :  he  might  either  offer  bat 
tle  to  an  antagonist  who  wished  nothing  better;  once 
more  i-etreat  across  the  Dan,  and  leave  the  state  to  the 
invader ;  or  advance  still  farther  on  the  route,  by  Guil- 
ford,  toward  Salisbury.  In  other  words,  the  aim  of 
Cornwallis  was  to  compel  his  adversary  to  fly  or  fight ; 
and  the  policy  of  Greene  was  to  avoid  either  necessity. 
It  was  a  peculiar  game  to  play,  and  required  all  the  skill 
of  the  strategist.  It  was  in  this  department  of  war  that 
Greene's  particular  merit  lay.  He  was  thoroughly  sen 
sible  of  the  truth,  that  he  can  be  no  general  whom  the 
enemy  can  force  to  fight  at  pleasure ;  and,  concentrating 
all  his  resources  upon  the  object  before  him,  a  series  of 
manoeuvres  followed,  which  declared,  more  impressively 
than  ever,  the  extent  of  his  abilities,  and  the  strength  and 
confidence  with  which  he  managed  them.  To  keep 
steadily  in  mind  the  necessity  of  covering  his  own  rein 
forcements,  preventing  those  of  the  enemy,  and  saving 
himself  from  disaster,  was  the  great  purpose  which 
governed  every  movement  in  his  progress,  and  counselled 
every  enterprise. 

Cornwallis  was  not  insensible  to  the  merits  of  his 
enemy,  and  his  own  necessities.  His  mind  seemed  to 
rise  to  the  level  of  his  exigences.  His  chief  object 
seems  to  have  been  to  persuade  the  attention  of  the  Amer 
ican  commander  in  one  direction,  while  he  decoyed  his 
reinforcements  within  striking  distance  in  another.  In 
doing  this,  he  had  to  keep  in  mind  the  necessity  of  nevef 


GREENE'S  STRATEGIES.  177 

oeiug  too  remote  from  his  own  stores  at  Wilmington, 
which  the  growing  distress  of  his  own  army  had  now 
begun  to  render  doubly  important  to  his  interests. 
Greene,  meanwhile,  kept  even  pace  with  the  march  of 
the  British  general.  Vigilance  and  activity  were  his 
prevailing  dictates.  Carefully  did  he  avoid  every  risk 
which  might  bring  on  a  general  action ;  and  his  arrange 
ments  never  failed  to  contemplate  an  open  avenue,  either 
for  advance  or  retreat.  He  thus  armed  himself  against 
every  manoeuvre  of  his  enemy ;  but  no  labor  could  have 
been  more  exhausting,  as  no  game  could  be  more  full  of 
perplexity  and  doubt.  Thus  counselled,  he  pressed  for 
ward,  and  crossed  the  Haw,  near  its  source,  and  chose 
for  the  scene  of  operations,  the  ground  which  lies  be 
tween  Troublesome  creek  and  Reedy  fork. 

Here  were  Greene's  headquarters,  but  he  was  in  no 
circumstances  to  be  fettered  by  an  arbitrary  choice  of 
position.  His  place  was  changed  nightly,  and  the  ca 
pricious  front  which  he  displayed,  served  the  double 
purpose  of  not  only  leaving  the  enemy  uncertain  of 
his  position,  but  of  his  numbers.  His  detachments, 
strengthened  at  his  own  expense,  were  active  in  corre 
spondence  with  their  strength.  His  light  troops  were 
continually  hovering  about  the  enemy,  darting  upon  his 
foraging-parties,  cutting  off  his  supplies  and  intelligencev 
beating  up  his  quarters,  vexing  his  march,  and  exhaust 
ing  him,  by  incessant  provocations  to  fruitless  service. 
In  this  occupation,  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  of  the  par 
tisans  was  most  conspicuous.  AVilliams,  Pickens,  Lee, 
and  Washington,  equally  distinguished  themselves  upon 
the  flanks,  and  in  the  front,  of  the  enemy.  The  former, 
maintaining  always  a  proper  position  for  supporting  the 
detachments,  was  equally  careful  to  be  sufficiently  neai 
to  co-operate,  when  necessary,  with  the  main  army. 
Joined  by  Pickens,  while  manoeuvring  in  the  vicinity 
8* 


178  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

of  the  Haw,  the  two  bodies  now  threw  themselves  ill 
front  of  the  enemy,  one  on  each  side  of  the  Alemance 
creek.  Their  force,  strengthened  by  large  accessions  of 
militia,  had  become  so  considerable,  that,  on  one  occa 
sion,  they  seriously  meditated  a  combined  attack  upon 
the  British  general.  Such  had  been  the  secresy  and 
celerity  of  their  movements,  that  he  had  been  utterly 
bewildered  by  them.  He  could  form  no  idea  of  their 
numbers,  and  was  only  conscious  of  their  presence,  by 
feeling  them  —  in  military  language  —  throughout  the 
nto-ht.  That  these  two  leaders  did  not  make  their 

O 

attack,  arose  from  counsels  to  a  delay  for  a  more  auspi 
cious  moment,  which,  unhappily,  did  not  again  occur. 

Thus  operating,  at  once  in  front,  flank,  and  rear, 
doubling  upon  their  grounds  daily,  like  a  fox,  now 
approaching  and  now  retiring-,  but  never  so  far  as  to 
relieve  their  adversary's  detachments  from  a  wholesome 
fear  of  danger,  the  several  divisions  of  Greene's  army 
contrived  still  to  keep  the  region  into  which  he  had  been 
bold  enough  to  penetrate.  No  will-of-the-wisp  ever  sport 
ed  more  capriciously  with  the  benighted  traveller,  than 
these  partisans  with  the  British  general.  He  knew  not 
in  what  quarter  to  look  for  the  foe,  whom,  but  the  last 
night,  he  had  felt  in  this  —  knew  not  where  to  appre 
hend  the  clanger  to-night,  which  had  threatened  him, 
equally,  on  all  quarters,  the  night  before.  Every  source 
of  intelligence  seemed  to  be  cut  off.  His  horizon  was 
bounded  to  a  span.  His  cavalry  seemed  adventurous 
no  longer.  The  wondrous  energy  and  success  of  Tarle- 
ton  were  suddenly  at  an  end  ;  and,  as  for  the  anxious 
tories,  lately  as  fussy  and  full  of  exercise  as  an  over 
flowing  hive  about  to  send  out  its  swarms,  they  dreaded 
to  make  the  slightest  humming,  which  should  declare 
their  vitality,  lest  it  should  waken  sharp  echoes  from  the 
s&brcs  of  Washington,  or  the  fatal  rifles  of  Pickets 


CORNWALL  IS'S    MOVEMENTS.  179 

Cornwallis  was  naturally  anxious  to  relieve  himself 
of  such  troublesome  attendants.  His  position  was  be 
coming  exceedingly  delicate  and  doubtful.  His  skill, 
though  considerable,  had  hitherto  been  unavailing.  It 
was  in  vain  that  he  urged  the  genius  of  Tarletori  into 
enterprise.  A  single  brush  of  that  desperate  dragoon 
with  the  legion  infantry,  gave  him  no  encouragement  to 
press  his  fortunes,  and  suggested  additional  reasons  to 
Cornwallis,  for  an  effort  of  deeper  policy,  and  more 
decisive  endeavor,  than  had  yet  been  made.  Circum 
stances  seemed  to  favor  his  desires.  He  had  succeeded 
in  procuring  some  certain  intelligence  of  these  detach 
ments  of  the  Americans,  whose  ubiquitous  career  had 
been  so  distressing  to  his  forces.  Like  some  great  ani- 
mai,  assailed  by  inferior  forces,  which  only  escape  his 
rage  in  consequence  of  their  superior  agility,  he  affected 
to  sleep  in  his  position.  For  six  days  he  remained 
almost  quiet  on  the  Alemance,  with  an  occasional  dem 
onstration  on  the  road  to  Cross  creek.  His  quiet  was 
meant  to  lull  the  Americans  into  momentary  security : 
his  demonstrations  in  the  direction  of  Cross  creek,  to 
divert  their  attention  from  his  true  object.  He  almost 
succeeded  in  this  ruse.  G-reene,  meanwhile,  with  the 
main  army,  lay  at  Boyd's  ferry,  fifteen  miles  from  the 
camp  of  Cornwallis.  Williams  was  more  within  his 
reach,  and,  on  the  night  of  the  6th  of  March,  lay  but  a 
few  miles  off,  on  the  left  of  the  enemy.  Could  the 
British  general  succeed  in  surprising  Williams,  or  in 
darting  by  him,  so  as  to  reach  the  High  Rock  ford,  in 
advance  of  G-reene,  then  would  the  latter  be  most 
effectually  separated  from  his  detachments,  and  be  com 
pelled  to  leave  them  to  their  fate,  or  hazard  his  whole 
army  in  a  battle,  to  secure  the  junction  with  them. 
Suddenly,  then,  in  the  hope  of  achieving  this  object, 
Cornwallis  set  his  army  in  motion  early  on  the  morning 


180  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

of  the  6th.  His  movements,  though  unanticipated, 
not  wholly  unprepared  for.  He  did  not  succeed  in  his 
surprise  of  Williams;  who,  keeping  good  watch,  dis 
covered  his  march  when  he  was  yet  two  miles  off,  and 
instantly  set  his  detachment  in  motion.  His  course,  like 
that  of  Cornwallis,  was  for  Wetzel's  mills,  across  the 
Reedy  Fork.  Throwing  himself  in  front  of  his  enemy, 
he  despatched  advices  to  Greene  of  the  threatened  dan 
ger,  and  then  proceeded  to  strain  every  nerve  to  attain 
the  pass  by  which  alone  could  he  unite  his  force  with 
that  of  his  superior.  Throwing  out  light  flanking  parties, 
under  Colonels  Preston  and  Campbell,  to  annoy  the  ad 
vance  of  the  enemy,  he  succeeded  in  keeping  the  start 
which  he  had  had  at  the  beginning,  and  the  race  continued, 
with  great  spirit,  until  the  passage  of  the  ford,  at  Wet 
zel's  mills,  was  effected.  Drawn  up  on  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  stream,  they  were  prepared  to  dispute  the  farther 
progress  of  the  British,  whose  advance,  under  Tarleton, 
soon  made  its  appearance,  but,  awed  by  the  presence  of 
the  American  cavalry  under  Washington  and  Lee,  they 
forbore  to  attempt  the  passage.  The  detachment  undei 
Preston  engaged  the  enemy  in  a  smart  skirmish,  the 
advantages  of  which  enured  to  the  Americans.  A  few 
prisoners  were  taken  on  both  sides.  Here,  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  Haw  river,  Williams  became  informed  of 
the  true  purpose  of  the  British  general.  Greene  was 
apprized  of  it  in  season;  and  though  Cornwallis  had 
stolen  a  march  on  Williams,  and  had  very  adroitly 
managed  his  enterprise,  he  failed  entirely  to  secure  his 
prey,  when  almost  within  his  grasp.  A  series  of  well- 
concerted  movements  on  the  part  of  Greene,  and  the 
leaders  of  his  detachments,  were  admirably  successful ; 
and,  when  the  British  general  reached  the  point  at 
which  he  expected  to  intercept  his  adversary  —  com- 
oelling  him  either  to  abandon  his  advancing  reinforce- 


COUNWALLIS    FOREGOES    PURSUIT.  181 

ments,  or  forcing  him  to  an  action  in  their  defence-  — he 
had  the  mortification  to  find  that  the  Americans  had 
gained  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  where,  both 
divisions  of  their  army  being  united,  they  could  safely 
oppose  his  passage  across  the  stream,  and  be  secure  of 
the  junction  with  their  rapidly-approaching  reinforce 
ments. 

This  was  the  last  contest  of  skill  between  the  rival 
captains.  Comwallis,  at  length,  despaired  of  outgen- 
eralling  his  antagonist.  His  only  hope,  now,  lay  in 
suffering  him  to  accumulate  his  forces  in  sufficient 
strength  to  engage  boldly  in  the  struggle,  where  the 
arbiter  should  be  the  sword.  Returning  sullenly  from 
the  pursuit,  he  took  post  at  Bell's  mills,  on  Deep  river, 
while  Greene,  in  his  camp  on  Troublesome  creek,  gave 
his  troops  a  brief  respite,  while  waiting  the  arrival  of 
his  Virginia  corps  and  militia.  A  few  days  enabled 
these  to  make  their  appearance,  bringing  with  them 
stores  and  supplies,  which  were,  of  all  things,  most 
needed  by  the  suffering  army.  The  North  Carolina 
militia  began  to  pour  in,  while  detached  parties  of 
militia  and  volunteers,  from  time  to  time,  added  to  the 
bulk  of  the  army,  so  as  to  swell  its  numbers  to  a  com 
plement  of  more  than  four  thousand  men.  "With  these, 
Greene  was  superior  to  his  adversary.  Fifteen  hundred 
of  these  troops  were  regulars.  A  considerable  body 
had  been  well-trained,  and  had  enjoyed  much  valuable 
experience  in  the  field.  They  were  such  as  could  be 
relied  upon,  as  well  for  steadfastness  as  courage.  Hia 
volunteers  and  militia  were  by  no  means  wanting  in 
resolution  and  spirit.  Their  deficiencies  lay  wholly  in 
their  want  of  training.  Unaccustomed  t6  long  endu» 
ranee  in  the  field,  to  concerted  action,  to  rapid  move* 
ments,  and  subjection  to  discipline,  their  efficiency  lay 
rather  in  their  quick  employment  in  actual  conflict 


182  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

than  in  the  more  slow  and  tedious,  but  not  less  impor 
tant  duties  of  marching,  manoeuvring,  and  rapid  evolu 
tion.  To  employ  these  sufficiently,  who  constituted  so 
large  a  part  of  his  army — to  confirm  the  spirit  of  his 
troops  —  to  raise  that  of  the  people,  to  respond  to  the  call 
l»f  public  opinion,  which  now  began  loudly  to  demand  a 
hattle  —  Greene  prepared  to  afford  his  adversary  the 
opportunity  which  the  latter  had  appeared  so  long  and  so 
earnestly  to  seek.  The  forces  of  Cornwallis  did  not 
number  more  than  two  thirds  of  his  own ;  but  they 
were  all  picked  soldiers,  men  of  tried  courage,  of  long 
experience  in  the  field,  and  admirable  training.  In 
numbers,  Greene  was  the  superior  to  Cornwallis,  but  far 
his  inferior  in  discipline  and  equipment;  and  the  for 
mer  did  not  regard  the  approaching  issue  with  so  much 
confidence  as  hope.  He  was  in  a  measure  compelled  to 
seek  the  fight.  He  could  expect  no  more  regulars,  and 
he  was  to  employ  and  encourage  the  militia.  The 
hopes  of  the  British  rested  upon  their  loyalist  auxili 
aries,  and  these  were  best  quieted  by  a  conflict,  in 
which,  even  if  successful,  the  British  army  should  be 
greatly  crippled  and  disorganized.  A  few  days  devoted 
to  the  drilling  of  his  militia,  calling  in  and  dissolving  his 
detachments,  reviewing  and  concentrating  his  strength, 
and  making  the  other  needful  preparations,  and  Greene 
advanced  to  Guilford  Courthouse,  taking  post,  on  the 
14th  March,  1781,  within  twelve  miles  of  the  enemy. 
To  approach  within  this  distance  to  an  enemy  is  a  mili 
tary  challenge.  Its  purport  was  understood;  nor  was 
Cornwallis  unwilling  for  the  encounter.  Both  armies 
accordingly  prepaied  themselves  for  action 


THE    FIELD    OF    GUILFORD.  t83 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Battle  of  Guilford.— Its  Vicissitudes.— Duel  between  Colonel  Stuart 
and  Captain  Smith. — Slaughter  among  the  Guards. — Retreat  of  the 
Americans. 

THE  scene  of  battle  on  the  present  occasion,  had  long 
before  attracted  the  military  eye  of  Greene  for  this  very 
purpose.  He  had  noted  its  susceptibilities,  on  his  first 
retreat  from  the  Yadkin  to  the  Dan,  particularly  for  the 
employment  of  irregular  troops,  in  which  an  undisci 
plined  militia,  with  certain  advantages  derived  from  the 
inequalities  of  the  surface  of  the  field,  might  success 
fully  be  brought  to  oppose  the  steadier  onset  of  a  vete 
ran  enemy.  The  country  was,  in  fact,  little  better  than 
a  wilderness.  The  settlements  were  few,  and  the  unbro 
ken  forest  spread  itself  on  every  hand,  leaving  but  a  few 
openings  here  and  there,  indicative  of  the  mere  dawn  of 
cultivation.  The  road  wound  its  way  between  thick 
masses  of  forest  and  undergrowth.  The  defile  was  nar 
row  ;  dense  coverts  of  copse  and  brush  shadowed  it  on 
all  hands  and  with  few  open  intervals  ;  while  the  ground, 
ascending  gradually,  with  occasional  undulations,  from 
hill  to  hill,  conducted  finally  to  the  superior  eminence, 
which  was  occupied  by  the  courthouse.  With  the 
ascent  of  these  hills,  the  road  begins  to  enlarge  and 
expand.  The  brushwood  begins  to  disappear ;  open 
fields,  and  small  clearings, let  in  the  rrore  frequent  light; 
while  the  fences  of  the  farmer,  which  the  approaching 
armies  had  not  yet  torn  away,  were  standing  in  proof  of 
rhe  humble  first  beginnings  of  art,  in  its  conflict  witb 


161  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

nature.  These  fields  were  mostly  abandoned.  A  stunted 
growth,  such  as  naturally  occurs  in  like  cases,  had  be 
gun  to  appear,  but  not  in  such  degree  as  to  offer  obstruc 
tion  to  the  progress  of  troops  in  battle.  The  ascent  of 
the  ground  was  gradual,  sloping  gently  from  the  court 
house,  and  subsiding  at  last,  into  a  rivulet,  which  wound 
its  way  along  the  edges  of  a  piece  of  swamp  or  bottom 
land.  The  open  tracts  were  divided  by  a  dense  mass  of 
forest,  which  concealed  them  from  each  other.  The 
space  immediately  about  the  courthouse  was  partly 
sheltered  by  a  growth  of  saplings,  which  also  formed  a 
partial  border  for  the  high-road  to  Salisbury.  Occasional 
ravines,  which  traversed  the  open  grounds,  afforded  ad 
ditional  strength  to  the  position,  and  contributed  to  rec 
ommend  the  spot  to  the  eye  of  the  American  commander. 
He  had  reached  the  field  in  sufficient  season  to  examine 
and  to  choose  his  ground,  to  arrange  the  order  of  battle, 
complete  his  preparations,  and  give  his  troops  an  en 
couraging  night's  rest. 

With  the  dawn  of  the  15th  he  was  stirring,  and  full 
of  anxious  expectation.  He  had  no  reason  to  doubt  that 
he  would  be  sought  by  his  enemy.  The  day  opened 
brightly,  and  with  pleasant  auspices.  The  troops  were 
in  the  best  of  spirits ;  and  Greene,  at  length,  congratu 
lated  himself  on  the  prospect  of  a  victory,  or,  at  all 
events,  a  struggle,  such  as  should  confirm  the  hope  of 
his  soldiers,  and  answer  the  expectations  of  the  country. 
His  force  of  regulars  and  militia-infantry  consisted  of 
four  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty-three  men.  Of 
these,  two  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty-three  were 
militia.  Of  his  whole  army,  something '  less  than  two 
regiments  had  ever  been  in  battle.  It  was  in  this  lack 
of  discipline  and  experience,  among  the  Americans,  that 
the  inferiority  of  the  British  in  numbers  was  more  than 
equal'zed.  The  force  under  Cornwallis  had  been  rated, 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  BATTLE.  186 

- 

and  with  every  apparent  probability,  at  about  three 
thousand  men.  It  certainly  could  not  have  been  less 
than  two  thousand  five  hundred,  not  including  cavalry. 
These  were  all  disciplined  troops,  accustomed  to  victory, 
and  doubly  urged,  at  the  present  time,  by  their  necessi 
ties  no  less  than  their  desires,  to  seek  it  with  the  most 
desperate  earnestness  and  valor. 

Early  in  the  morning  a  detachment  under  Lee,  con 
sisting  of  his  legion  and  a  body  of  riflemen,  had  been 
sent  out  to  reconnoitre.  They  encountered  the  British 
advance,  under  Tarleton,  and  engaged  it  with  spirit  and 
success.  But,  feeling  that  they  had  to  do  with  the  van 
of  an  army,  they  withdrew  to  the  main  body,  giving  due 
notice  of  the  approaching  conflict.  Greene  at  once  made 
his  preparations.  His  officers  were  soon  in  station,  and 
his  troops  arrayed  for  battle.  His  army  was  drawn  out 
in  three  separate  lines,  presenting  so  many  successive 
barriers  to  the  assault  of  the  enemy.  The  first  of  these, 
consisting  of  the  North  Carolina  militia,  o-ne  thousand 
in  number,  under  the  command  of  Generals  Eaton  and 
Butler,  were  placed  upon  the  skirts  of  a  wood  at  right 
angles  with  the  road  upon  which  the  enemy  was  ap 
proaching.  In  front  of  them  stretched  a  long  and  nar 
row  cornfield,  whose  crumbling  fences  of  rail  afforded 
rather  a  show  of  protection  and  shelter  than  any  positive 
defence.  It  was  supposed  that  a  few  rounds  might  be 
delivered  under  their  cover  before  the  defenders  were 
compelled  to  retire  under  the  push  of  the  bayonet.  The 
weapons  of  this  line  were  mostly  rifles.  Practised 
marksmen,  from  habitual  exercise,  it  wanted  but  steadi 
ness  of  nerve  to  make  their  bullets  tell.  Unfortunately, 
they  had  not  only  never  been  in  battle,  but  they  had 
never  been  subject  to  the  severe  mechanism  of  that  drill 
and  discipline  which,  in  military  training,  accomplishes 
quite  as  much.  In  the  road,  in  advance  of  this  line 


186  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEI.    GREENE. 

were  placed  a  couple  of  six-pounders,  under  Captain 
Singleton.  On  the  right  of  this  line,  extending  behind 
the  west  side  of  the  open  fields,  obliquely  toward  a 
swamp,  was  a  covering  party  under  Colonel  Washing 
ton,  consisting  of  Kirkwood's  Dela.wa.res,  eighty  in  num 
ber,  and  a  battalion  of  two  hundred  riflemen  under  Colo 
nel  Lynch.  Washington's  cavalry  was  drawn  up  in  the 
woods  at  a  little  distance.  The  left  of  the  line  was  cov 
ered  by  a  party  under  Colonel  Lee,  consisting  of  the 
legion-infantry,  and  a  detachment  of  riflemen  under 
Colonel  Campbell,  two  hundred  and  fifty  in  all.  Lee's 
cavalry  held  a  corresponding  post  on  the  extreme  left, 
with  Washington's  on  the  right. 

The  second  line  of  the  Americans  was  drawn  up 
about  three  hundred  yards  behind  the  first,  and  under 
shelter  of  the  woods.  This  line  was  formed  of  Virginia 
militia,  raw  troops  also,  but  they  were  fortunate  in  being 
led  by  officers  who  had  been  in  the  continental  army,  and 
possessed  considerable  experience  in  the  field.  The  line 
was  commanded  by  Generals  Stevens  and  Lawson.  The 
former,  whose  experience  in  militia  was  considerable,  and 
who  had  suffered  extreme  mortification  by  their  miscon 
duct  on  a  previous  occasion,  adopted  astern  and  sharp  rem 
edy  against  their  timidity  in  future.  He  stationed,  in  the 
rear  of  his  brigade,  a  line  of  sentinels,  picked  men  upon 
whom  he  could  rely,  whose  instructions  were  to  shoot 
down  any  individual  who  broke  the  ranks.  The  remedy 
has  usually  been  found  unfailing  against  the  infirmity  it 
seeks  to  cure.  This  line,  as  well  as  the  first,  crossed  and 
completely  covered  the  road. 

The  third  and  last  line  of  the  Americans  consisted  of 
continentals,  under  the  command  of  Gc-nerals  Huger  and 
Williams.  It  was  composed  of  the  brigades  of  Mary 
land  and  Virginia,  the  former  under  Williams,  the  latter 
under  Huger.  This  line  was  stationed  about  three  hun« 


APPROACH    OF    THE    BRITISH.  187 

dred  yards  in  the  rear  of  the  second ;  the  Maryland 
brigade,  on  the  right,  fronting  the  southwest ;  the  Vir 
ginians,  in  regard  to  the  peculiar  formation  of  the  hill, 
facing  southeastwardly.  Between  the  right  of  the  one 
line  and  the  left  of  the  other,  the  angle  was  occupied  by 
two  pieces  of  artillery.  The  Virginia  line  consisted  of 
two  regiments,  led  by  Colonels  Greene  and  Rudford; 
the  Maryland  of  two  also,  under  Colonels  Ford  and 
Gunby.  That  of  Gunby  was  the  only  veteran  regi 
ment.  Two  roads,  directly  in  the  rear  of  the  Ameri 
cans,  left  avenues  for  retreat,  a  necessity  which,  consid 
ering  the  peculiar  objects  of  General  Greene,  was  not, 
certainly,  a  humiliating  one.  His  game  was  to  cripple 
the  enemy  by  his  light  troops,  if  possible,  and  insure  their 
safety  in  retreat,  by  the  intervention  of  his  regulars.  His 
third  line  was,  in  fact,  his  only  reserve,  and  it  commanded 
both  the  roads  by  which  to  secure  the  escape  of  the 
fugitives,  in  the  event  of  disaster.  No  doubt  the  ar 
rangement  was  one  of  many  advantages ;  but  we  are 
half  inclined  to  doubt  the  policy  which  exposes  a  militia 
wholly  inexperienced  and  untried,  to  the  first  shock  of 
battle,  when,  the  judicious  intermixture  with  them  of 
select  bodies  of  regulars,  would  fortify  their  courage 
by  example,  and  sustain  them  with  firmness  under 
pressure.  • 

The  appearance  of  the  van  of  the  British  army,  at 
about  1  o'clock  in  the  day,  drew  upon  them  the  thunders 
from  Singleton's  two  pieces  in  advance.  The  response 
was  quickly  made  by  the  British  artillery,  from  an 
eminence  which  commanded  the  road,  over  the  heads  of 
their  own  columns.  Watching  his  opportunity  in  the 
intervals  of  the  fire,  Cornwallis  rapidly  pushed  his  sec 
tions  across  the  defile,  displaying  them,  as  thoy  severally 
passed,  according  to  arrangement,  under  cover  of  an 
intervening  wood.  The  right  of  the  British  was  com 


188  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

manded  by  General  Leslie,  the  left  by  Colonel  \Vebstei 
The  troops  forming  the  line,  consisted  of  the  Hessian 
regiment  of  Boze,  the  71st,  the  23d,  and  the  33d  regi 
ments,  in  succession.  The  first  battalion  of  the  guards 
was  drawn  up,  as  a  support  to  that  wing  in  the  rear  of 
the  right.  The  second,  with  the  grenadiers  of  the  same 
corps,  under  Brigadier-General  O'Hara,  acted  as  the 
support  of  the  left.  The  Yagers  and  light  infantry  of 
the  guards,  when  the  line  was  put  in  motion  for  the 
assault,  attached  themselves  to  the  33d  regiment.  Tarle- 
ton's  cavalry  was  held  in  reserve,  and  kept  pace,  under 
cover  of  the  wood,  with  the  progress  of  the  artillery, 
which  could  only  advance  upon  the  open  road. 

These  arrangements  completed,  the  British  pushed  on 
to  the  attack.     The  first  line  of  North-Carolinians  still 
wore  an  aspect  of  firmness,  and  their  officers  began  to 
exult  in  the  hope  that,  under  the  partial  cover  of  the 
fence,  they  would  deliver  such  a  fire  as  would  fatally 
cripple  the  enemy  in  his  advance,  and  possibly  effect  his 
utter  discomfiture.     But,  a  few  moments  sufficed  to  dis 
pel  these  pleasant  anticipations.     With  the  advance  of 
the  British,  a  scatteiing  fire  was  began  by  the  militia, 
and  a  single  discharge  from  the  whole  line  may  have 
been  delivered.     But  the  inexperienced  woodsmen  were 
not  equal  to  the  terrible  shock  of  battle,  when  opened 
with  the  earnest  pressure  of  the  bayonet.     Coming  on 
with  a  fierce  halloo,  an  army  with  banners  and  a  most 
gorgeous   array,  the   British  rushed  forward  in  a  wild 
torrent,  pouring  in  their  fire  as  they  came,  and  hastening, 
with  the  most  determined  resolution,  to  the  close  business 
with  cold  steel.     The  militia  were  not  equal  to  the  trial. 
A  panic  seized  upon  the  line.     Those  who  were  fearless, 
and  would  have  fought,  were  isolated  in  the  wild  disrup 
tion  of  their  ranks,  and  compelled  to  obey  the  necessity 
which  seemed  to  hurry  them  in  flight.     It  was  in  vain 


PANIC     OP    THE    MILITIA.  189 

that  their  officers  threw  themselves  across  the  path  of 
the  fugitives,  and  strove  by  blows,  no  less  than  words,  to 
arrest  the  torrent.  The  flood  was  irresistible.  Their 
fears,  superior  to  self-rebuke  or  shame,  were  not  to  be 
restrained  by  arguments  or  threats.  Bewildered  by  their 
terrors,  they  darted  through  the  woods,  or  sought  shelter 
in  the  rear  of  the  second  line,  which  opened,  with  hisses, 
to  receive  and  shelter  them. 

The  British,  exulting  at  this  first  advantage,  rushed 
forward  in  pursuit,  with  triumphant  shouts,  as  if  secure 
of  victory.  But  they  were  welcomed  by  crossfires  from 
the  flanking  parties  of  Washington  and  Lee,  which 
silenced  their  clamors,  and,  for  a  moment,  cooled  their 
hopes.  These  flanking  parties  had  witnessed,  without 
dismay,  the  sad  misconduct  of  the  militia.  They  kept 
their  ground  steadily,  and  delivered  their  fire  with  a 
rapidity  and  precision,  which  taught  Cornwallis  the 
necessity  of  moving  with  more  deliberation  to  the  con 
flict.  A  halt  was  ordered ;  while  the  regiment  of  Boze, 
half-wheeling  to  the  right,  and  the  33d,  with  the  light 
infantry  and  Yagers,  to  the  left,  addressed  themselves,  on 
each  hand,  to  the  business  of  dispersing  the  flanking  par 
ties.  "Washington  and  Lee,  thus  entreated  by  a  superior 
force,  gradually  yielded  before  the  enemy,  delivering 
steady  and  sure  fires,  at  every  chance,  from  tree  and 
thicket,  and  only  giving  ground  under  the  pressure  of 
the  bayonet.  In  thus  retiring  without  losing  their  order, 
these  separate  bodies  were  soon  brought  into  a  corre 
sponding  relation  with  the  second  line  of  the  Americans, 
which  they  had  occupied  in  regard  to  the  first. 

Meanwhile,  the  British  line,  which  had  again  closed 
for  the  encounter  with  the  Virginia  militia,  hurried  on, 
with  confidence,  to  the  assault.  But  the  Virginia  militia, 
uninfluenced  by  the  shameful  example  of  the  North-Caro 
linians,  presented  an  unbroken  front  to  the  assailants. 


19U  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Their  fire  was  delivered  with  equal  coolness  and  pre« 
cision.  Armed,  numerously,  with  the  rifle,  no  single 
shot  was  expended  idly,  but  each  bullet  had  its  mission 
for  a  special  mark.  Wide  gaps  were  soon  opened  in 
the  British  files  by  a  fire  so  destructive  ;  and  the  faltering 
and  derangement  which  followed  in  the  British  line,  un 
der  this  handling,  proved,  conclusively,  that  their  doom 
must  have  been  inevitable  with  better  behavior  on  the 
part  of  the  American  first  line.  But,  the  steady  valor 
of  the  British  prevailed,  under  the  tenacious  and  trained 
spirit  of  veteran  experience.  Animated,  by  their  officers, 
to  the  most  determined  efforts,  they  continued  to  press 
forward.  Then  it  was,  that,  under  the  superior  influence 
of  the  British  bayonet,  Lawson's  brigade,  on  the  Ameri 
can  right,  began  to  yield.  But  they  gave  back  slowly, 
and  without  losing  their  coolness  or  order;  the  Ameri 
can  left,  and  the  British  right,  becoming,  respectively, 
the  pivots  upon  which  the  two  lines  appeared  to  revolve. 
It  was  at  this  moment  that  Washington,  who  commanded 
the  flanking  party  on  the  right,  following  the  sweep 
which  had  been  made  by  the  right  of  the  American  line, 
and  faithful  to  the  charge  of  covering  it,  came  out  upon 
the  road.  Here,  discovering  that  the  retreat  of  the  line 
was  inevitable  in  the  retreat  of  Lawson's  wing,  he  sep 
arated  his  infantry  from  it,  and  made  his  way  to  the 
third  or  continental  line,  taking  post  on  the  right  of  the 
Marylanders.  The  fight  still  continued  on  the  left  of  the 
second  line  of  the  Americans,  which,  supported  by  the 
riflemen  of  Campbell  and  the  legion  of  Lee,  were  enabled 
to  protract  the  issue,  if  net  to  change  its  character. 

The  disappearance  of  Washington,  with  his  detach 
ment,  from  the  right  wing  of  the  Virginia  militia,  had 
left  Colonel  Webster  free  to  pursue  his  progress  in  this 
quarter.  Webster  was  in  command  of  the  British  left. 
He  pushed  forward,  accordingly,  until  became  in  con- 


ADMIRABLE    CONDUCT    OF    THE    MARYLANDEHS.       191 

tact  with  the  first  regiment  of  Marylanders,  forming  the 
extreme  right  of  the  continental  or  third  line  of  the 
Americans.  This  regiment  was,  par  excellence,  the  tenth 
legion  of  the  American  army.  It  was  the  same  which, 
under  Colonel  Howard,  had  crossed  bayonets  with  the 
British  at  Cowpens,  compelling  them  to  succumb.  It 
had  a  fame  to  keep  and  cherish,  which  was  not  difficult, 
with  its  almost  veteran  experience.  Commanded  by 
Colonel  Gunby,  it  was  in  fit  condition  to  maintain  its 
laurels.  It  was  an  evil  hour  for  Webster  that  he  pushed 
forward  in  this  quarter.  His  approach  occasioned  no 
emotions.  The  Marylanders  were  prepared  for  him, 
and  coolly  awaited  his  approaches.  Their  fire  was  with 
held  until  the  British  were  within  proper  range,  and 
then  delivered  with  an  effect  so  fearful  as  to  produce 
almost  instant  discomfiture.  Not  waiting  to  note  the 
effect  of  their  fire,  but  seemingly  assured  of  what  it 
should  be,  the  Marylanders  followed  up  their  fire,  by 
descending  into  the  plain  and  administering  the  bayonet. 
The  rout  which  followed  was  complete.  The  British 
left  was  sent  off  reeling  in  confusion ;  and,  had  either 
of  the  two  squadrons  of  American  cavalry  been  present, 
the  enemy  could  never  have  recovered  from  the  disas 
ter.  Webster,  himself  grievously  wounded,  was  yet 
enabled  to  draw  off  his  crippled  regiment,  and,  cover 
ing  them  behind  a  ravine  in  the  cover  of  the  woods, 
to  wait  for  succor  from  his  general.  Greene  did  not 
dare  to  pursue  his  advantage,  having  no  such  confidence 
in  his  remaining  regiments  as  would  justify  him  in  a 
close  grapple,  on  the  plain,  with  the  whole  British  army, 
discarding  all  the  advantages  of  his  position,  and  relying 
on  the  struggle  hand  to  hand. 

It  was  during  the  conflict  between  these  two  parties, 
that  the  artillery  of  the  British,  under  Lieutenant 
M'Leod,  had  made  its  way  along  the  road,  and  at 


192          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

length  reached  the  fiel-d  of  action,  taking  a  commanding 
position  on  a  rising  ground  at  the  edge  of  the  wood. 
This  was  an  event  of  considerable  importance  in  deter 
mining  the  final  event. 

The  battle,  meanwhile,  was  still  raging  fiercely  be 
tween  the  left  of  the  Virginia  militia,  and  the  right  wing 
of  the  enemy.  Stevens,  the  brave  commander  of  the 
former,  had  been  disabled  by  a  severe  wound  in  the 
thigh ;  but  this  did  not  dismay  his  followers.  Still 
using  their  rifles,  with  coolness  and  precision,  they  were 
clinging  to  the  wood,  as  they  retired,  and  making  their 
way  slowly  to  the  cover  of  the  continental  line.  Their 
rifles,  though  no  match  for  the  British  bayonet,  were  yet 
speaking  audibly,  at  every  second,  to  the  very  hearts  of 
their  assailants ;  but  they  were  not  now  in  sufficient 
force  to  render  necessary  the  employment  of  so  large  a  di 
vision  of  the  British  army  as  had  engaged  them,  and  leav 
ing  them  to  the  care  of  the  first  battalion  of  the  guards, 
and  the  regiment  of  Boze,  General  Leslie  drew  off  the 
23d  and  71st,  and  hastened  to  follow  the  footsteps  of 
General  O'Hara,  who,  with  the  2d  battalion,  and  grena 
diers  of  the  guards,  had  hurried  to  interpose  between 
Webster  and  the  Maryianders.  His  march  brought  him 
into  collision,  not  with  the  first  regiment  of  Maryiand 
ers,  whom,  we  have  seen,  under  Gunby,  encountering 
the  onslaught  of  Webster  with  such  severe  handling, 
but,  with  the  second  regiment  from  the  same  state,  un 
der  Colonel  Ford.  Here  the  American  general  was 
doomed  to  a  mortifying  disappointment.  Ford's  regi 
ment,  uninfluenced  by  the  noble  example  of  Gunby's, 
recoiled  from  a  conflict  with  the  splendid  line  of  British 
guards  that  bore  down  upon  them.  Their  admirable 
bearing,  and  brilliant  appearance,  imposed  too  heavily 
upon  the  apprehensions  of  the  Maryianders,  and  instead 
if  a  brave,  manly  struggle,  they  yielded,  with  scarcely 


CONFLICT    OF    STUART    AND    SMITH.  193 

an  effort,  before  their  foes,  breaking  entirely,  after  a 
brief  trial,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  exertions  of  their  offi 
cers.  This  misfortune  threw  Singleton's  two  pieces  of 
artillery  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy ;  anc.  they  rushed 
forward,  secure  now  of  victory,  with  shouts  that  shook 
the  field.  But  their  exultation  was  premature.  They 
had  not  noticed  the  approach  of  other  foes  of  more  stead 
iness  and  spirit  than  those  whom  they  pursued.  Gun- 
by's  approach,  with  the  first  Marylanders,  had  been  con 
cealed  by  the  copse-wood  by  which  the  field  was  skirted, 
and  equally  silent  and  unsuspected  had  been  the  ap 
proach  of  Washington,  with  the  cavalry  of  his  com 
mand.  In  an  instant,  the  British  shouts  of  victory  were 
changed  to  shrieks  of  death.  Wheeling  upon  the  left, 
the  regiment  of  Gunby  dashed  in  among  the  guards, 
and  a  terrible  struggle,  hand  to  hand,  ensued.  The 
contest  was  for  life,  no  less  than  for  victory.  Gunby 
was  wounded,  and  put  Jiors  de  combat,  his  place  being 
supplied  by  Howard.  Disordered  by  their  own  wild 
pressure  upon  the  recoiling  ranks  of  Ford's  Maryland 
ers,  the  British  guards  no  longer  maintained  any  com 
pact  order,  under  the  charge  of  Gunby's.  Then  it  was, 
that,  while  they  struggled  pell-mell,  in  all  the  mazes 
of  the  conflict,  Washington's  cavalry  burst  in  upon 
them  from  the  rear,  and  threatened  their  total  annihila 
tion.  A  series  of  individual  conflicts  followed  in  this 
struggle,  some  of  which  find  their  places  in  regular  his 
tory.  One  of  these  may  well  deserve  our  attention. 
The  combatants  were  Colonel  Stuart,  of  the  guards, 
and  Captain  John  Smith,  of  the  Marylanders.  Both  of 
these  champions  were  distinguished  by  nerve  and 
muscle.  They  had  met  before,  and  a  personal  provo 
cation  had  resulted  in  the  mutual  declaration  that  their 
next  meeting  should  end  in  blood.  The  present  was  a 
fitting  occasion,  and  they  singled  «ach  other  out,  with  a 
9 


194  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

fierce  passion  for  revenge,  which  made  then:  totally 
regardless  of  the  wild  confusion  and  red  horrors  of  the 
vielee.  Their  weapons  were  at  once  crossed,  with  a 
desperate  fury,  which  promised  but  one  result.  A  mo 
ment  decided  the  conflict.  The  adroit  pass  of  Stuart's 
smallsword  was  admirably  parried  by  the  left  hand  of 
the  American,  while  with  his  right,  he  drove  the  edge  of 
his  heavy  sabre  through  the  head  of  his  enemy,  cleaving 
him  to  the  very  spine.  The  next  moment,  he  himself 
was  brought  to  the  ground,  stunned,  not  slain,  by  the 
graze  of  a  pistol-bullet,  sent  by  a  devoted  follower  of 
the  fallen  Briton,  who  was  stricken  to  the  heart,  almost 
in  the  same  moment,  by  the  bayonet  of  an  American, 
who  was  equally  watchful  of  the  safety  of  his  superior. 
But  the  duel  between  these  furious  combatants  did 
not  arrest  the  business  of  the  field.  That  went  on,  with 
increasing  animation  and  interest.  The  British  guards 
were  overwhelmed  in  the  struggle.  Broken  and  scat 
tered,  reeling  in  confusion  and  dismay,  pressed  with 
inveterate  rage  by  Howard  and  Washington,  they  were 
allowed  not  a  moment  to  recover  their  organization  or 
their  breath.  The  crisis  of  their  fate  had  arrived,  and 
Cornwallis  beheld  in  it  the  shadow  of  his  own.  He 
hastened  to  the  point  of  danger,  the  whole  field  beneath 
his  eye,  covered  with  his  flying  guards,  and  their  vindic 
tive  pursuers.  The  desperate  condition  of  his  fortunes 
required  one  of  those  desperate  remedies,  at  the  em 
ployment  of  which  quite  as  much  nerve  as  judgment 
becomes  necessary.  The  stern  Briton  adopted  his  reso 
lution  in  an  instant.  He  wheeled  from  the  spot  for  the 
purpose  of  putting  it  in  execution,  and  rarrowly  escaped 
captivity  or  death,  at  the  hands  of  Washington.  A 
petty  accident,  the  falling  of  his  cap,  at  the  momen 
when  our  colonel  of  cavalry  was  about  to  dart  upon  hia 
prey,  as  he  rode  off,  enabled  the  British  general  to 


SLAUGHTER  OF  THE  GUARDS.  195 

escape  this  danger,  of  which  he  was,  possibly,  at  the 
time,  unconscious. 

His  care  was  in  another  quarter.  The  necessity  be 
fore  him  was  a  fearful  one.  His  fortunes  hung  upon  a 
thread.  The  rout  of  the  guards  was  irretrievable,  and 
must  be  followed  by  the  worst  consequences,  if,  in  the 
scattered  state  of  his  troops,  the  fierce  onset  of  the  cav 
alry  under  Washington  should  remain  unchecked.  He 
had  no  forces  in  reserve.  By  this  time  the  whole 
strength  of  the  British  army  had  been  more  or  less 
engaged  in  the  action.  But  one  dreadful  expedient 
remained  to  him,  and,  hurrying  to  the  hill  on  which 
M'Leod  had  posted  his  artillery,  he  gave  the  terrible  or 
der  to  repel  the  progress  of  the  American  cavalry,  by 
pouring  out  torrents  of  grape  upon  the  field.  Mingled 
in  masses  upon  the  plain,  were  his  own  troops  with  the 
Americans.  Every  storm  of  bullets  swept  necessarily 
through  the  ranks  of  friends  and  foes.  His  own  guards 
must  feel  the  storm  as  heavily  as  their  adversaries.  But 
they  were  already  compromised.  No  remedy  could  avail 
for  their  safety,  and  none  but  this  for  his  own.  He  gave 
the  orders.  Bleeding  with  previous  wounds,  O'Hara  ex 
postulated  with  his  chief:  "  Tt  is  destroying  ourselves." 
His  remonstrances  were  made  in  vain.  "  True,"  was  the 
answer  of  Cornwallis,  "  but  it  is  now  unavoidable.  The 
evil  is  a  necessary  one,  which  we  must  endure  if  we 
would  escape  destruction."  O'Hara  turned  away  from 
the  cruel  spectacle,  while  the  floods  of  grape  tore  their 
way  in  frequent  tempest  over  the  plain.  The  expedi 
ent  was  fatally  successful.  It  repelled  the  American 
cavalry.  It  rescued  the  victory  from  their  clutches  ;  Jbut 
one  half  of  the  splendid  battalion  of  the  guards  was 
swept  to  ruin  in  the  storm. 

The  battle  was  not  yet  over.     The  conflict  still  con 
tinned  between  the  parties  engaged  in  the  woods.     For 


196  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

the  safety  of  his  detachments  in  this  quarter,  Groeno 
felt  the  greatest  anxiety.  The  British  commander,  reso 
lute  on  victory  as  the  only  source  of  safety,  was  newly 
forming  his  line,  bent  upon  the  renewal  of  his  endeavors. 
Forming  under  cover  of  the  brush  along  the  roadside, 
his  operations  were  greatly  concealed  from  sight;  and, 
pressing  too  cautiously  forward,  for  the  purpose  of  dis 
covery,  Greene  incurred  as  great  a  peril  of  captivity  or 
death  as  Cornwallis  had  done  but  a  little  while  before. 
His  coolness  and  presence  of  mind  alone  saved  him  from 
a  shower  of  musketry.  Occasional  volleys  were  still 
heard  from  the  edges  of  the  wood,  with  now  and  then  a 
mutual  bellowing  from  the  cannon  of  the  rival  forces, 
posted  on  separate  heights.  The  regiment  of  Boze  was 
still  kept  busy  in  the  woods,  with  the  left  of  the  Ameri 
can  second  line.  There  the  riflemen  of  Campbell,  the 
infantry  of  Lee,  and  the  broad-swords  of  his  legion,  still 
maintained  the  conflict,  firing  from  every  cover,  and 
retreating  only  at  the  approach  of  the  bayonet.  In  this 
kind  of  warfare  the  Americans  had  all  the  advantage. 
They  could  be  driven  by  their  enemies,  but  not  far ;  and 
the  moment  the  halt  was  made  again,  it  was  only  to  send 
forth  new  volleys  of  winged  bullets,  every  one  of  which 
had  its  billet.  The  British,  still  advancing,  were,  never 
theless,  dropping  fast,  and  Cornwallis  ordered  Tarleton 
with  his  dragoons,  to  the  succor  of  the  regiment  of  Boze. 
It  happened,  unfortunately,  that  Lee's  cavalry  had  been 
withdrawn,  with  some  other  object,  from  the  wing  of 
Campbell's  party,  when  the  descent  of  Tarleton  was 
made.  Had  they  been  present,  the  fortunes  of  the  day 
might  have  been  made  triumphantly  secure.  Unshel 
tered  by  this  arm  of  the  service,  Campbell's  rifles  were 
compelled  to  disappear  ir  double-quick  time,  having 
nothing  to  oppose  to  the  British  broad-sword.  This, 
alone,  saved  the  regiment  of  Boze,  and  enabled  it  tc 


REVERSE    OP    THE    AMERICANS.  19 

recover  the  British  line.  With  its  reappearance,  and  tho 
disappearance  of  Lee's  corps,  for  the  fate  of  which  his 
anxiety  was  now  painfully  awakened,  Greene  felt  that  the 
chances  of  the  day  were  about  to  go  against  him.  The 
British  troops,  though  dispirited  and  greatly  thinned,  were 
yet  again  in  line,  and  presenting  a  formidable  front.  To 
oppose  them,  the  mere  numbers  of  Greene  might  have 
been  still  sufficient ;  but  how  could  he  rely  upon  the 
regiment  of  continentals  which  had  so  shamefully  emula 
ted  the  flight  of  the  North  Carolina  militia,  at  the  very 
brunt  of  conflict  ?  He  had  too  much  at  stake  to  peril 
his  troops  unnecessarily  in  a  struggle  for  which  no  train 
ing  had  yet  prepared  them.  A  drawn  battle,  for  all 
moral  purposes,  would  suflice  for  his  objects.  The  pol 
icy  of  the  Americans  counselled  delay  rather  than  risk. 
With  every  moment  of  pause,  the  British  army  was 
losing  in  numbers,  health,  confidence,  and  resources 
Fortunately,  Greene  had  kept  his  regiment  of  Virginia 
continentals  in  reserve.  With  these  he  could  draw  off 
his  troops  with  safety,  the  former  interposing  with  un 
broken  front,  to  cover  the  retreat.  A  reckless  courage, 
an  audacity  that  would  stake  all  on  the  hazard  of  a  sin 
gle  cast  of  the  die,  might,  with  this  regiment,  sustained 
by  those  who  still  kept  the  field,  have  rendered  the  affair 
a  glorious  victory.  But  so,  also,  might  such  audacity 
have  worked  the  entire  ruin  of  the  cause  and  the  com 
mander.  Such  boldness  could  only  be  justified  by  the 
desperation  ot  the  case,  such  as  Cornwallis  felt,  and  by  a 
perfect  confidence  in  the  coolness  and  steadfastness  of  the 
regiments  from  which  the  service  was  expected.  Want 
ing  this  confidence,  and  feeling  no  such  necessity,  Greene 
prudently  determined  not  to  renew  the  engagement.  He 
had  gained,  perhaps,  quite  as  much,  or  even  more,  than 
he  had  anticipated  from  the  trial  of  strength,  in  crippling 
the  enemy,  and  encouraging  his  own  troops.  Both  of 


198  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL     GREENE. 

these  had  resulted  from  the  engagement,  in  spite  of  all 
its  disappointments  and  vicissitudes. 

The  order,  accordingly,  was  given  to  retreat.  The 
North  Carolina  and  Virginia  militia  had,  by  this  time, 
generally  gained  the  rear  of  the  army,  and  were  on  their 
way  to  the  designated  place  of  rendezvous.  Colonel 
Greene,  with  the  Virginia  regiment,  fresh  and  entire,  was 
employed  to  cover  the  retreat.  With  the  first  indications 
of  this  movement,  the  enemy  advanced,  with  two  regi 
ments  and  a  strong  body  of  cavalry.  The  firing  opened  on 
both  sides  with  great  spirit,  and  was  continued  for  some 
time  with  considerable  animation.  But  the  Americans 
were  too  firm,  and  the  British  too  much  crippled,  to  make 
the  pursuers  eager  for  the  renewal  of  the  conflict.  The 
pursuit  was  soon  arrested,  and,  bringing  up  the  rear  in 
person,  Greene  made  his  first  halt  for  several  hours, 
within  three  miles  of  the  field  of  battle.  Here  he  picked 
up  his  stragglers,  arranged  for  the  care  of  the  wounded, 
and  snatched  a  momentary  rest  from  fatigue,  before  resu« 
ming  his  march,  which  he  did  in  a  cold  and  pitiless  rain, 
reaching  his  encampment  at  the  iron-works  of  Trouble 
some  creek-  about  the  dawning  of  the  next  day 


CONDITION    OF    THE    AMERICANS.  199 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Oornwallis  retreats — Is  pursued  by  Greene — Escapes. — His  Condition, 
and  that  of  the  Americans. — Greene's  Policy. — Discontinues  the  Pur 
suit  of  Cornwallis — Marches  to  South  Carolina— Appears  before  Cam- 
den — and  offers  Battle  to  Lord  Rawdon. 

THUS  terminated  this  long  and  bloody  conflict,  the 
caprices  and  vicissitudes  of  which,  for  a  long  while,  held 
the  issue  in  suspense.  But  for  the  miserable  failure  of 
Greene's  first  line,  the  victory  must  have  been  with  the 
Americans  —  as  it  was,  nothing  but  the  superior  dis 
cipline  of  the  British  secured  it  for  them.  Cornwallis 
was  at  the  head  of  two  thousand  troops,  as  fine  as  any  in 
the  world.  Of  Greene's  army,  not  more  than  five  hun 
dred  had  ever  seen  service.  Yet  no  troops  could  have 
behaved  better  than  a  certain  portion  of  his  force.  The 
habitual  training  of  the  British,  when  made  to  recoil,  ena 
bled  them  quickly  to  recover,  and  to  form  themselves  anew 
for  battle.  But  with  Greene's  militia  the  case  was  other 
wise.  Defeat  was  dispersion  also.  Even  the  Mary- 
landers  of  Ford,  though  saved  from  the  onset  of  the 
guards  by  the  timely  interposition  of  Gunby  and  Wash 
ington,  could  not  again  be  brought  to  look  the  enemy  in 
the  face.  The  steadiness  of  the  infantry  of  the  former, 
and  the  cavalry  of  the  latter,  could  not  have  been  sur 
passed ;  and  the  spirit  exhibited  by  both,  united  the 
audacity  of  chivalry  witli  the  discipline  of  the  regular 
soldier.  Could  Greene  have  saved  his  artillery,  the  loss 
of  which  is  not  adequately  accounted  for,  he  would 


200  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

probably  have  had  little  reason  to  complain  of  the  results 
of  the  conflict.  One  fourth  of  the  British  army  had 
been  put  /tors  du  combat  in  the  melee.  Most  of  their 
officers  were  hurt.  Cornwallis  and  Leslie  narrowly 
escaped,  the  former  having  had  two  horses  shot  under 
him,  while,  at  one  moment  of  the  struggle,  the  sabre  of 
Washington  was  almost  literally  brandished  over  his 
head.  His  gallantry  deserves  every  credit,  and  was  such 
as  to  prove  how  vitally  important  to  his  safety  did  he 
estimate  the  issues  of  the  day.  His  loss,  in  killed, 
wounded,  and  missing,  was  six  hundred  and  thirty-three. 
Of  these,  one  colonel  and  four  commissioned  officers 
were  slain  on  the  field;  Colonel  Webster  and  several 
captains  died  of  their  wounds ;  the  recovery  of  General 
O'Hara  was,  for  a  long  time,  doubtful;  Tarleton  was 
wounded,  and  a  General  Howard,  who  volunteered  in 
tke  engagement,  besides  twenty  other  commissioned 
officers. 

The  Americans  were  far  more  fortunate.  Their  loss 
did  not  reach  half  this  number — a  result  attributable 
purely,  to  the  superior  excellence  of  the  rifle  in  then 
hands,  over  the  musket  in  the  hands  of  the  British. 
General  Huger,  at  the  head  of  the  Virginians,  was 
slightly  wounded  in  the  hand  ;  Major  Anderson,  an  able 
officer  of  the  1st  Marylanders,  was  killed ;  General  Ste 
vens  was  severely  wounded  ;  and  about  a  dozen  other 
officers  suffered  from  wounds  also.  The  greater  loss  of 
the  Americans  consisted  in  the  flight  of  the  militia.  One 
half  of  the  North-Carolinians  and  a  large  number  of  the 
Virginians,  when  they  left  the  field,  continued  on  their 
way,  long  after  the  danger  was  over,  and  retired  to  their 
homes.  The  whole  force  of  Greene,  reviewed  on  the 
19th,  four  days  after  the  battle,  amounted  to  three  thou 
sand  one  hundred  and  fifteen,  including  every  descrip 
tion  of  soldier.  The  trophies  which  he  left  in  the  handa 


CONDITION    OF   CORNWALLIS.  201 

of  liis  adversary,  consisted  of  his  artillery,  a  couple  of 
baggage-wagons,  and  a  portion  of  his  wounded.  It  is 
one  of  the  curious  proofs  of  the  doubtful  and  capri 
cious  character  of  the  conquest,  that  he  carried  off  a 
greater  number  of  prisoners  than  he  lost. 

The  victory  certainly  lay  with  the  British ;  but  it  was 
a  victory,  as  was  remarked  by  Fox,  in  the  house  of  com 
mons,  like  that  of  Pyrrhus,  which  left  the  conqueror 
undone :  "  another  such  would  ruin  the  British  army." 
Greene,  himself,  upon  a  survey  of  the  result,  was  enabled 
to  make  the  same  estimate.  "  He  has  gained  his  cause," 
said  he,  speaking  of  Cornwallis,  "  but  is  ruined  by  its 
cost."  The  British  general,  himself,  was,  probably,  not 
not  less  satisfied  of  the  justness  of  this  judgment.  Re 
turning  from  the  fruitless  pursuit  of  the  Americans,  he 
was  enabled  to  review  his  troops  and  the  field  of  battle. 
The  scene  presented  a  spectacle,  in  open  land  and  woods, 
which  must  have  admonished  him  of  the  growing  peril 
which  hung  about  his  camp.  Nearly  seven  hundred  of 
his  best  troops  had  been  cut  off.  There  they  lay,  on 
every  hand,  where  the  rifles  of  Campbell  had  dropped 
them,  step  by  step,  as  they  came — where  the  fierce 
charge  of  Gunby's  regiment  had  swept  them  down,  and 
where  the  flashing  sabres  of  Washington  had  smitten 
them  as  with  an  edge  of  fire.  There,  too,  covering  the 
broad  space  before  his  eyes,  were  the  numerous  victims 
to  his  own  unsparing  artillery,  when  it  became  neces 
sary,  in  arresting  the  cavalry  of  Washington,  to  sweep, 
with  the  same  besom  of  death,  the  scattered  and  stag 
gering  guards  whom  he  could  no  longer  save.  The 
British  general,  with  a  drooping  spirit,  prepared  for  the 
burial  of  the  dead  and  the  care  of  the  wounded.  His 
tory  records,  to  his  honor,  that  he  did  not  discriminate 
between  friend  and  foe  in  the  performance  of  these  mel 
sncholy  duties.  Nisrht  found  him  at  this  gloomy  work, 
V 


SOS  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

and  the  aspect  of  the  heavens  had  become  gloomier  with 
cloud  and  rain.  The  chilling  gusts  of  March  swer.  t  the 
field,  laden  with  sleety  showers,  that  added  to  the  suffer 
ings  of  the  wounded,  and  increased  the  cares  and  anxie 
ties  of  those  who  were  burdened  with  the  charge  of  them, 
The  baggage  had  not  arrived.  The  soldiers  were  with 
out  tents ;  and,  after  the  dwellings  within  reach  had 
received  all  whom  they  could  shelter,  there  were  still 
hundreds,  even  of  the  wounded,  who  were  exposed,  to 
all  the  rigors  of  the  night  and  season,  with  no  other 
cover  than  the  clothes  they  wore.  More  than  fifty  of 
these  wretched  sufferers  had  perished  ere  the  dawn. 

Encumbered  with  his  wounded,  with  his  best  officers 
slain  or  incapable  from  wounds,  with  the  moral  of  his 
army  greatly  impaired,  surrounded  by  doubtful  and 
timid  friends,  or  by  vindictive  and  impatient  enemies,  far 
from  his  resources,  and  equally  uncertain  of  reinforce 
ments,  the  barren  victory  of  Cornwallis  was  really  a  dis 
aster  of  the  worst  description.  He  put  on  a  face  of  the 
utmost  confidence,  while  grief  and  anxiety  were  heavy 
at  his  heart.  His  proclamation,  issued  from  his  camp  at 
Guilford,  set  forth,  in  glowing  colors,  the  brilliancy  and 
importance  of  his  recent  victory,  even  at  the  moment 
when  he  felt  that  his  necessities  counselled  a  retreat.  He 
summoned  the  loyalists  to  his  standard,  and  held  out 
terms  of  pardon  to  the  whigs  at  the  very  moment  when 
his  retrograde  movements  had  begun.  He  could  no 
longer  venture  to  hunt  his  enemy.  He  felt  that  the 
fugitive  must  soon  become  the  hunter.  It  was  impossi 
ble  to  struggle  longer  against  the  difficulties  that  encom 
passed  him.  When  he  destroyed  his  baggage,  after  the 
affair  at  Cowpens,  it  was  with  the  full  persuasion  that 
he  should  be  in  security  in  the  British  camp  in  Virginia, 
or  in  the  richest  counties  in  that  state.  He  was  now 
almost  as  far  removed  from  this  pi  aspect  as  before,  and 


RETREAT    OF    THE    BRITISH.  203 

in  less  condition  to  attain  it.  His  numbers  were  reduced 
one  half — his  men  were  barefoot  —  his  stores  were  ex- 
nausted  —  and  the  enemy  was  still  at  hand,  threatening 
an  early  renewal  of  the  conflict  —  that  enemy  whom  he 
had  found  it  impossible  to  conquer,  and  whom  he  could 
no  longer  venture  to  pursue.  In  a  precioitate  flight  lay 
his  only  means  of  security. 

On  the  18th  of  March,  three  days  after  the  battle,  he 
commenced  his  retreat.  His  design  was  covered  by 
every  possible  artifice.  His  boastful  proclamation  was 
intended  to  disguise  his  purpose  ;  and  the  better  to  attain 
his  object,  he  conveyed  his  wounded  in  his  wragons  and 
litters,  taking  for  granted,  that,  with  such  incumbrances, 
nobody  would  suspect  his  purpose  of  retreat. 

But  Greene  had  been  too  well  advised  of  the  condi 
tion  of  the  British  army,  to  leave  him  in  doubt  as  to  the 
necessity  before  his  adversary.  The  excellent  spirits  of 
his  own  army,  officers  and  men  —  nowise  daunted  by  the 
issue  of  the  late  struggle,  but  proud  of  the  stand  which 
a  portion  of  them  had  made,  and  anxious  to  efface  the 
discredit  and  reproach  which  had  fallen  upon  the  whole, 
by  the  misconduct  of  those  who  had  faltered  —  all  en 
couraged  the  American  general  to  take  the  initiate  in 
the  future  trials  of  strength  with  the  enemy.  With  the 
first  intimation,  therefore,  of  the  march  of  the  British, 
Lee  was  detached  to  hang  upon  his  rear,  and  harass  his 
progress.  A  deficiency  of  ammunition,  under  which 
Greene's  army  at  present  labored,  alone  prevented  him 
from  a  more  decided  demonstration  with  his  whole 
force. 

The  advance  of  the  Americans  hastened  the  move 
ments  of  Cornwallis.  He  could  no  longer  pursue  his 
march  at  leisure,  encumbered  with  the  litters  of  his 
wounded.  Seventy  of  these  he  left  behind,  under  the 
protection  of  a  flag;  pursuing  a  progress  which  was 


204  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

designed  to  keep  his  opponent  in  doubt  as  to  his  real 
destination  and  purpose,  pressing  forward  across  Deep 
river,  in  the  direction  of  Salisbury.  This  route,  looking 
quite  as  much  to  a  return  to  South  Carolina  as  to  any 
other  point,  might  have  persuaded  any  commander,  less 
wary  and  sagacious  than  Greene,  to  take  a  direct  course 
for  Camden,  in  order  to  intercept  his  progress  to  that 
place.  But,  entering  into  all  the  calculations  of  Corn- 
wallis,  Greene  was  prepared  to  fathom,  or  to  suspect, 
the  real  purpose  of  his  adversary.  A  few  hours  sufficed 
to  satisfy  him  of  the  propriety  of  his  doubts.  Recros- 
siug  Deep  river,  Cornwallis  marched  down  its  east  bank, 
leaving  it  no  longer  uncertain  that  Wilmington  was  the 
place  which  he  aimed  to  reach.  The  light  detachments 
jf  the  Americans  hung  upon  his  skirts,  while  the  whole 
force  of  the  army  was  pressed  forward  by  a  nearer  road, 
which  left  the  British  troops  but  little  advantage  in  point 
of  distance.  The  contest  was  now  not  only  one  of 
speed,  but  one  of  skill  —  the  former,  indeed,  depending 
greatly  upon  the  degree  in  which  the  latter  should  be 
shown.  In  this  contest,  Cornwallis  put  forth  all  his 
strength.  Greene  pressed  forward  with  all  the  energy 
which  was  possible,  in  bad  roads  and  inclement  weath 
er,  and,  at  one  moment,  when  near  Buffalo  creek,  had 
hopes  of  bringing  on  an  engagement,  under  favorable 
circumstances.  But  a  re-examination  of  his  resources 
of  ammunition,  showed  such  a  scanty  supply,  as  greatly 
to  discountenance  the  desire ;  and  the  British  sped  for 
ward,  without  farther  interruption  than  could  be  sug 
gested  by  the  harassing  vigilance  of  picked  squadrons  at 
their  heels.  This  survey  of  Greene's  resources,  result 
ing  so  unprofitably,  occasioned  some  delay  in  the  pursuit, 
of  which  Cornwallis  took  due  advantage.  Pressing 
forward  his  pioneers,  he  commenced  throwing  a  bridge, 
at  Ramsey's  mill,  across  Deep  river,  near  its  confluence 


ESCAPE    OF    THE     BIUTISH.  20£ 

with  the  Haw.  This  indicated  an  intention  to  cross  at 
that  place,  and  was  calculated  to  direct  the  march  of 
the  American  army,  crossing  above  him,  down  the  op 
posite  bank.  This  left  Greene  in  a  dilemma.  He  saw 
that  if  he  pursued  this  route,  the  British,  having  an  alter 
native,  would  cross  the  Haw,  and  securely  descend  or. 
the  east  side  of  the  Cape  Fear.  So  well  planned,  in 
this  proceeding,  had  been  the  measures  of  Cornwallis, 
that  there  was  no  method  of  counteracting  them.  A 
movement  directly  forward,  would  only  force  the  enemy 
across  his  bridge,  which,  broken  down  behind  him, 
would  leave  to  the  Americans  no  means  of  passage,  but 
by  fords  across  the  Deep  or  the  Haw,  in  seeking  which, 
the  loss  of  time  must  utterly  baffle  the  pursuit. 

For  a  moment,  Greene  was  compelled  to  he3itate  in 
doubt.  But  twelve  miles  separated  the  two  armies  — 
the  British  at  Ramsay's  mills,  the  Americans  at  Rigdon's 
ford,  both  on  Deep  liver.  A  day  elapsed,  in  which  the 
forces  lay  in  patient  watch  of  one  another.  But  Greene 
soon  reached  his  conclusion.  His  only  hope  lay  in  a 
forced  march,  and  coup  de  main.  He  resolved  to  push 
forward  his  light  troops,  with  orders  to  engage  the 
enemy,  if  possible,  and  keep  them  employed  until  the 
army  could  overtake,  and  share  in  the  conflict.  The 
movement  was  made  before  day  on  the  morning  of  the 
<JSth.  But  the  British  commander  was  too  wary,  and 
was  too  fully  conscious  of  his  peril,  to  be  caught  nap 
ping.  He  kept  himself  well  informed  of  all  the  move 
ments  of  his  adversary,  and  was  soon  apprized  of  the 
approach,  of  the  detachments.  His  flight  was  resumed, 
and  he  passed  the  bridge  in  safety ;  but  so  hot  was  the 
pursuit,  that  he  had  not  time  to  destroy  it  effectually,  to 
bury  his  dead,  or  carry  off  his  beef,  which  was  found 
hanging  in  the  stalls.  The  light  troops  of  the  Americana 
wore  enabled  to  cross,  and  continue  the  pursuit;  while 


#06  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

the  army  pressed  forward  to  overtake  them,  with  an 
energy  and  eagerness,  under  which  their  sufferings  were 
immense.  Many  of  them,  exerting  themselves  beyond 
their  strength,  fainted  upon  the  wayside.  No  halt  was 
taken  for  refreshment,  but  the  calls  of  nature  were  sus 
pended,  in  an  earnest,  desire  to  bring  the  enemy  to  the 
linal  issue  of  the  sword.  What  was  their  mortification, 
reaching  the  mills,  to  find  the  prey  escaped !  It  was 
then  that  they  broke  down  utterly — the  stifled  necessi 
ties  under  which  they  had  toiled,  speaking  out,  despe 
rately,  in  their  disappointment.  The  volunteers  and 
militia  refused  to  follow  any  farther.  Exhausted  with 
toil,  wanting  provisions,  and  with  their  terms  of  service 
long  since  expired,  they  demanded  their  discharge. 
This  was  a  surprise  to  their  commander ;  but  it  was  one 
which  he  had  HO  power  to  resist.  He  could  only  en 
treat,  but  unsuccessfully ;  their  engagement  was  really 
at  an  end.  The  cares  of  agriculture  were  at  hand,  and 
their  farms  summoned  them  to  the  performance  of  du 
ties,  upon  which,  indeed,  rested  the  future  hope  of  pro 
visioning  the  army.  He  was  compelled  to  yield  to  their 
requisitions,  and  this  necessity  was  fatal  to  any  hope 
which  he  might  entertain  of  overtaking  his  enemy. 
Cornwallis,  meanwhile,  had  passed  into  a  region  abound 
ing  with  loyalists,  where  his  resources  improved  at 
every  step,  and  in  which  he  could  obtain  easy  and  early 
intelligence  of  every  step  taken  by  the  Americans. 
Greene  reluctantly  gave  up  the  pursuit. 

Fixing  his  quarters,  temporarily,  at  Ramsey's  mills, 
in  order  to  recruit  his  troops,  and  make  his  preparations 
for  future  service,  Greene  found  his  situation  quite  as 
mortifying,  at  this  moment,  as  at  any  period  during  the 
campaign.  He  was  now,  after  the  discharge  of  the 
militia,  numerically  inferior  to  his  enemy;  yet  he  was 
now  in  possession,  for  the  first  time,  of  proofs  which 


GUEENE'S  POLICY.  207 

showed  how  easy  it  might  be,  with  moderate  assistance, 
to  ruin  the  army  of  Cornwallis.  But  he  applied  for  this 
assistance  in  vain.  His  own  army  was  in  a  state  of  ex 
treme  suffering  and  prostration.  They  had  scant  provis« 
ions.  Lean  beef  in  small  quantities,  and  corn-bread  baked 
in  the  ashes,  were  their  chief  supplies ;  and,  not  unfre- 
quently,  the  vulture  was  robbed  of  his  garbage,  by  the 
fierce  hunger  of  the  starving  soldier.  Equally  wretched 
was  the  condition  of  the  troops  in  regard  to  clothing. 
Shoes  there  were  none  ;  and  their  garments  were  such 
as  remained  from  long  and  wearisome  marches  in  wild 
countries,  through  pitiless  weather.  It  was  covering, 
perhaps,  — but  not  clothing.  That  they  were  cheerful 
under  their  privations,  was,  perhaps,  quite  as  much  due 
to  the  influence  of  their  commander,  who  freely  shared 
their  sufferings,  as  of  that  cause  and  government  by 
which  they  seemed  to  be,  almost  entirely,  disregarded. 

Having  abandoned  the  farther  pursuit  of  Cornwallis, 
as  no  longer  proper  or  profitable,  the  natural  inquiry  of 
Greene  was,  in  what  manner  he  should  now  employ  his 
army.  Merely  to  maintain  a  position  of  surveillance 
upon  the  movements  of  his  enemy,  was  neither  agree 
able  to  his  own  desires,  nor  of  much  promise  of  advan 
tage  to  the  objects  which  he  aimed  to  effect.  To  achieve 
successfully,  in  conflict  with  an  enemy  already  in  partial 
possession  of  the  country,  it  was  necessary  to  dislodge 
him.  This  required  the  exercise  of  constant  energies, 
and  enterprises  at  once  frequent  and  decisive,  by  which 
his  attention  would  be  distracted,  and  his  strength  worn 
out,  in  the  harassing  toils  of  a  watch  and  defence, 
which  exhausted  his  resources  without  leaving  him  in 
security. 

We  have  seen,  that,  on  Greene's  first  assuming  the 
command  of  the  southern  army,  he  fixed  his  eye  upon 
the  numerous  posts  with  which  the  British  had  covered 


208  LIFE    OP    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

all  the  vulnerable  and  commanding  portions  of  that 
state.  These,  in  fact,  constituted  their  base  of  opera 
tions.  To  dispossess  them  of  these,  became,  naturally, 
a  first  policy  of  the  American  general;  and  a  series 
of  separate  enterprises  for  this  object  was  meditated, 
beginning,  as  we  remember,  with  the  attempt  to  sur 
prise  Georgetown  by  Marion — an  attempt  which  was 
only  partially  successful.  Circumstances  now  prompted 
Greene  to  the  determination  to  renew  these  attempts 
and,  at  once,  boldly  again  to  make  his  way  into  Soutl 
Carolina.  There  was  much  to  encourage  him  in  thi> 
purpose.  The  partisans  of  that  region  had  not  beet 
idle,  while  he  was  engaged  in  his  protracted  trial  of 
skill  with  Cornwallis.  Sumter  had  been  beating  up  the 
British  quarters  on  various  occasions,  had  cut  off  their 
detachments,  obtained  numerous  smaller  successes,  and, 
by  his  rapidity  of  movement  and  continued  activity,  had 
given  frequent  occasion  for  disquiet  to  Lord  Rawdon, 
whom  Cornwallis  had  left  in  command  behind  him 
Marion  had  been  equally  busy;  and  Pickeiis,  who  had 
been  detached  by  Greene,  with  this  object,  some  time 
before,  was  busily  engaged  in  recruiting  the  whig  militia 
for  similar  uses.  The  day  after  the  battle  of  Guilford 
Colonel  Hampton,  another  of  the  famous  partisans  of 
Carolina,  arrived  at  the  camp  of  the  Americans  with 
such  tidings  as  renewed  all  Greene's  anxiety  to  direct 
his  steps  rapidly  upon  the  enemy's  garrisons.  His  de 
cision  was  accordingly  taken.  His  calculations  were 
simple  and  conclusive.  If  Cornwallis  continued  hi? 
progress  to  Virginia,  his  posts  in  South  Carolina  wouk1 
be  exposed  to  ruin,  one  by  one ;  and  if,  on  the  othe? 
hand,  he  wheeled  about  to  follow  the  American  army, 
he  would  be  diverted,  necessarily,  from  the  conquest  of 
North  Carolina  and  Virginia,  both  of  which  states, 
relieved  from  his  presence,  would  be  enabled  to  concen 


PREPARES  TO  RETURN  TO  SOUTH  CAROLINA.   209 

trate  their  energies  upon  the  completion  of  their  broken 
regiments.  In  any  point  of  view,  the  resolution  t<\ 
carry  back  the  operations  of  active  warfare  into  South 
Carolina,  seemed  to  promise  results  of  far  greater  benefit 
than  any  other  proposed  plan  of  future  campaign.  But, 
in  deciding  upon  this  measure,  General  Greene  incurred 
the  greatest  of  perils  —  that  of  offending  public  opinion. 
He  was  about  to  depart  from  the  ordinary  rules  of  war 
fare.  Military  men  are  not  often  permitted  to  forego 
the  pursuit  of  an  enemy,  already  weakened  in  conflict, 
to  direct  their  efforts  against  a  foe,  strongly  posted,  and, 
as  yet,  unimpaired  for  resistance  by  previous  struggle. 
This,  which,  in  ordinary  cases,  would  seem  equally  the 
impulse  of  temerity  and  caprice,  was,  however,  in  the 
present  instance,  dictated  by  considerations  of  the  pro- 
foundest  policy.  Greene's  reasons  were  given  at  length,  at 
the  time  when  his  resolves  were  taken,  in  ample  letters 
to  Washington,  Lafayette,  and  others.  He  argued,  in 
addition  to  what  has  been  already  stated,  that,  by  moving 
south  with  his  troops,  he  should  be  enabled  to  provide 
them  with  the  supplies  which  must  else  find  their 
way  to  the  enemy;  that,  whether  Cornwallis  pursued 
him  or  not,  North  Carolina,  at  least,  —  which  was  para 
lyzed  by  his  presence,  —  would  be  rescued  from  his  pres 
sure  ;  that  the  very  boldness  of  his  scheme,  which  seemed 
startlingly  full  of  dangers,  would  have  a  large  effect 
upon  the  public  mind,  as  it  would  seem  to  indicate  the 
possession  of  resources  which  were  unsuspected  by  his 
adversaries  ;  and  that  the  necessities  of  the  country,  and 
the  moods  of  the  people,  were  such  as  to  justify  and 
render  it  necessary  that  some  considerable  perils  should 
be  incurred  —  something,  in  short,  left  to  fortune,  in  the 
expectation  of  results  which  could  not  accrue  from  any 
mere  exercise  of  patience  and  circumspection.  "  The 
manoeuvre  will  bo  critical  and  dangerous,"  was  his  Ian 


210  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

guage  to  Washington ;  .  .  .  "  but  necessity  obliges  me 
to  commit  myself  to  chance."  "  The  troops  will  be 
exposed  to  every  hardship  ;  but  I  shall  share  it  with 
them." 

The  moment  that  his  determination  had  been  taken, 
he  sent, an  express  to  Jefferson,  governor  of  Virginia,  to 
forward  fifteen  hundred  militia.  Captain  Singleton  was 
despatched  to  Virginia  to  procure  artillery;  magazines 
were  ordered  to  be  formed  on  the  banks  of  the  Catawba  ; 
the  partisan  generals  of  South  Carolina  were  apprized  of 
his  design-s,  and  instructed  to  get  the  militia  under  arms 
for  a  series  of  separate  enterprises ;  and  every  means 
was  put  in  exercise  to  secure,  in  advance,  abundant  sup 
plies  of  provisions.  The  route  of  the  army  lay  through 
a  country,  at  once  sparsely  settled  and  in  the  hands  of 
enemies ;  and  every  precaution  was  necessary  against 
failure  and  disappointment.  All  things  being  ready,  tho 
camp  at  Ramsay's  mills  was  broken  up  on  the  7th  of 
April.  The  heavy  baggage,  and  all  the  stores  that  could 
be  spared  from  present  use,  were  sent  another  route,  by 
Salisbury,  to  the  head  of  the  Catawba ;  while  the  army, 
still  seeming  to  press  the  pursuit  of  Cornwallis,  crossed 
Deep  river,  and,  for  a  day,  continued  the  direct  route  to 
Wilmington  ;  then,  suddenly  taking  the  first  convenient 
road  to  the  right,  he  turned  the  heads  of  his  columns 
in  the  direction  of  Camden,  South  Carolina.  His  hope 
was  to  surprise  this  place.  He  flattered  himself,  that, 
preceding  all  relief  from  the  army  of  Cornwallis,  his 
march  would  be  unknown  to,  and  unsuspected  by,  Raw- 
don.  But  he  was  disappointed.  The  distance  which 
he  had  to  traverse  was  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles. 
His  progress  was  unavoidably  slow.  The  country  was 
sterile  and  exhausted,  and  in  the  hands  of  enemies.  His 
every  movement  was  watched  and  reported.  The  run 
ners  of  the  torieis  preceded  him  in  his  march  ;  and  a 


GREENE  PENETRATES  SOUTH  CAROLINA.     211 

delay  of  several  days  at  the  Pee  Dee,  in  consequence 
of  the  want  of  boats  for  crossing,  enabled  Rawdon  to 
receive  full  advices  of  the  danger,  and  to  provide  against 
it.  Greene  reached  the  neighborhood  of  Camden  on 
the  19th,  and  found  its  garrison  fully  equal  to  all  the 
strength  he  could  bring  to  bear  against  it.  Reconnoi 
tring  it  with  the  view  to  assault,  he  was  compelled  to 
forego  the  hopeless  enterprise.  Camden  is  situated  on 
a  gentle  elevation,  extending  from  the  swamps  along  the 
"Wateree  river,  to  Pine-tree  creek.  Covered,  to  the 
south  and  west,  by  these  streams,  it  was  still  farther 
closed  against  assault  by  a  chain  of  redoubts,  which 
guarded  it  on  every  open  point,  while  the  defences  were 
made  complete,  by  strong  lines  of  stockade  in  the  rear 
of  the  redoubts.  Without  battering  cannon,  any  attempt 
to  subdue  it  must  have  been  hopeless ;  and  nothing 
remained  to  Greene  but  to  choose  such  a  position  as 
might  tempt  the  enemy  from  his  strong-hold.  He  took 
post,  accordingly,  on  a  small  rising  ground,  on  the 
Waxhaw  road,  within  half  a  mile  of  the  British  lines. 
But,  Rawdon  manifesting  no  disquiet  at  this  challenge, 
and  no  disposition  to  accept  it,  Greene  retired,  with  his 
army,  a  mile  and  a  quarter  farther,  to  a  place  called 
Hobkirk's  hill,  where,  with  his  left  covered  by  a  difficult 
morass  clothed  with  woods,  and  his  right  approaching 
an  almost  impenetrable  thicket,  he  pitched  his  tents  for 
the  present. 


212  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL     GREENE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Cornwallis  pursues  his  Route  to  Virginia. — The  Partisan  Warfare  in 
Carolina. — Marion. — Captures  Fort  Watson. — Greene's  Movements. — 
Rawdon  marches  out  from  Camden  and  gives  him  Battle. — Battle  of 
Hobkirk's  Hill. 

CORNWALLIS  was  greatly  surprised  by  the  unexpected 
march  of  Greene  into  South  Carolina.  The  boldness  of 
the  proceeding  confounded  him,  and  awakened  his  seri 
ous  apprehensions  for  the  safety  of  British  power  in  that 
state.  His  resolves  seem  to  have  been  troubled  by  seri- 
hus  perplexities.  At  first,  he  meditated  to  follow  his 
adversary ;  and  the  scheme  was  full  of  plausibilities, 
which  proposed  to  place  the  army  of  Greene  between  his 
own  and  that  of  Hawdon.  From  this,  indeed,  lay  the 
greatest  danger  of  the  American  general.  But  Cornwal 
lis  paused  so  long  before  reaching  his  conclusion,  that  it 
became  evident  that  Greene  was  quite  too  far  on  his 
route  to  be  overtaken.  Rawdon  must  have  either  tri 
umphed,  or  succumbed  to  his  opponent,  before  he  could 
possibly  arrive  to  share  in  the  struggle.  To  proceed 
to  Hillsborough,  with  the  hope  of  drawing  off  the  regards 
of  Greene,  to  that  point,  from  South  Carolina,  was  an 
other  suggestion,  which  seemed  to  betray  the  perplexi 
ties  of  the  British  commander,  occasioned  by  the  move 
ments  of  the  Americans.  On  either  side  were  doubt  and 
difficulty ;  doubts  which  no  decision  seemed  likely  to 
overcome,  and  difficulties  which  appeared  to  increase 
the  more  he  examined  them.  Greene's  wisdom,  in  the 
adoption  of  his  course,was  never  more  strikingly  show?] 


PARTISAN    WARFARE    IN    CAROLINA.  213 

than  in  the  trouble  and  anxiety  which  it  occasioned 
to  hi-s  enemy.  The  situation  of  Cornwallis's  army  was 
such  as  materially  to  interfere  with  his  enterprises.  It 
had  been  terribly  crippled  by  the  affair  at  Guilford,  the 
subsequent  harassing  pursuit,  and  the  exhausting  march 
es.  For  three  weeks  after  his  arrival  at  Wilmington,  he 
was  employed  in  recruiting  the  strength  of  his  shattered 
regiments ;  and  when  he  did  put  his  army  in  motion,  it 
was  to  commence  the  invasion  of  Virginia,  where,  fol 
lowing  the  finger  of  his  fate,  he  was  destined,  at  York- 
town,  to  yield  to  other  hands  the  laurels,  to  which,  in 
some  degree,  the  commander  of  the  southern  army  might 
have  urged  his  claim.  Leaving  him  to  his  fate,  which 
no  longer  concerns  our  progress,  we  return  now  to  the 
field  of  former  and  future  struggle  in  South  Carolina. 

In  that  state,  at  no  period,  had  domestic  opposition  to 
the  invader  been  entirely  at  an  end.  Crushed  for  the 
moment,  her  partisans  simply  held  themselves  aloof  in 
shadow,  in  reserve  for  the  moment  when  a  1'easonable 
prospect  of  success  might  attend  the  effort  at  open 
struggle.  The  numerous  small  enterprises  which  were 
undertaken  by  Marion  and  Sumter,  with  the  many 
brave  officers  who  followed  in  their  commands,  during 
the  various  progresses,  already  recorded,  of  the  main 
army,  will  not  require  our  enumeration  or  description 
here.  Enough,  that  their  effect  was  such  as  to  carry  dis 
may  everywhere  among  the  settlements  of  the  loyalists. 
Marion,  in  particular,  succeeded  for  a  time  in  breaking 
up,  almost  entirely,  the  communications  between  Charles 
ton  and  the  army  under  Rawdon,  and  by  intercepting 
detachments  and  supplies  for  the  several  posts  across  the 
country,  reduced  them  to  the  most  serious  straits  and 
exigencies.  Greene  was  by  no  means  insensible  to  these 
services,  and  in  approaching  South  Carolina,  a  second 
*,imo,  he  despatched  Colonel  Lee,  with  three  hundred 


S4  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

men,  to  co-operate  with  Marion,  who  was  at  this  time 
lying,  perdu,  in  consequence  of  an  active  pursuit,  which 
Colonel  Watson,  with  a  select  and  superior  force  had 
been  required  by  Rawdon  to  institute  after  the  wary 
partisan.  Lee  narrowly  escaped  "Watson,  who  might 
easily  have  prevented  his  junction  with  Marion.  This, 
however,  was  effected  successfully,  and  the  partisan  gen 
eral  lost  no  time  in  proceeding  to  action.  His  first 
demonstration  was  against  Fort  Watson,  a  strong  stock 
ade  fort,  raised  on  an  ancient  mound  near  the  San  tee. 
This  post  was  captured,  after  a  short  defence.  From 
this  service,  Marion  turned  to  that  of  intercepting  the 
march  of  his  former  pursuer,  Colonel  Watson,  who  was 
supposed  to  be  making  his  way  with  all  speed  to  the 
assistance  of  Rawdon  at  Camden.  It  was  in  aiming  at 
this  object,  throwing  himself  across  the  path  of  Watson, 
and  pressing  on,  himself,  to  the  neighborhood  of  Camden, 
that  Marion  contributed  to  give  a  new  impulse  and  new 
activity  to  the  proceedings  of  Lord  Rawdon.  The  Brit 
ish  general  was  growing  uneasy  at  the  augmentation  of 
the  American  forces  ;  and  determined  to  take  the  risks  of 
a  battle,  before  they  should  have  been  so  far  increased  as 
to  put  the  issue  beyond  all  doubt.  He  was  unaware  that 
Greene  had  been  strengthened  by  a  timely  arrival  of  two 
pieces  of  artillery,  one  of  which,  as  soon  as  received,  had 
been  sent  to  Marion,  while  two  other  pieces,  sent  from 
Virginia,  reached  the  camp  of  the  Americans,  on  the 
very  day  when  the  British  general  marched  out  to  give 
them  battle.  Prior  to  this,  some  movements  which 
Greene  had  made,  on  the  22d  of  April,  which  Rawdon 
very  naturally  construed  into  an  attempt  on  the  part  of 
the  American  general  to  intercept  the  approach  of  Wat 
son  with  his  reinforcements,  contributed  to  his  uneasi 
ness,  and  aided  in  inducing  the  determination  to  precipi 
tate  the  is«*ue.  For  this,  Greene  was  in  perfect  readi- 


GREENE    ATTACKED    BY    LORD       AWDOX.  215 

ness.  It  was  an  event  which  he  had  too  eagerly  sought, 
and  too  earnestly  desired,  not  to  have  provided  against 
with  all  necessary  precautions.  The  army  was  encamped 
in  order  of  battle.  They  were  held  in  constant  expecta 
tion  of  attack.  Patrols  ranged  all  the  approaches,  pene 
trating  as  near  to  the  town  as  the  forest  cover  would 
permit,  and  the  front  of  the  camp  was  guarded  by  double 
pickets,  against  all  the  points  from  which  danger  was 
likely  to  approach.  A  becoming  vigilance  guarded 
against  all  danger  of  surprise. 

On  the  morning  of  the  2t5th  of  April,  the  day  which 
Lord  Rawdon  had  selected  for  the  attack,  a  convoy  much 
needed  and  long  expected,  bringing  supplies  of  artillery 
and  provisions,  made  its  appearance  in  the  American 
camp.  The  troops  were  at  breakfast,  with  a  keen  relish 
for  the  creature  comforts  so  seasonably  brought,  and 
Greene,  with  his  aids  was  enjoying  the  unwonted  lux 
ury  of  a  cup  of  coffee,  when  the  sound  of  fire-arms,  in 
the  distance,  announced  the  approach  of  the  enemy.  The 
men,  many  of  them,  were  still  busy  in  the  more  grateful 
occupation  of  dressing  their  food ;  while  some  washed 
their  clothes  at  a  neighboring  rivulet.  With  the  alarm, 
and  the  roll  of  the  drums  which  followed,  they  were 
instantly  in  arms,  and  but  a  few  moments  sufficed  to 
place  them  in  array  for  battle.  They  were  in  number 
nearly  or  quite  equal  to  the  force  of  the  enemy,  and  they 
exhibited  a  cheerful  steadiness  which  gave  to  their  com 
mander  the  most  grateful  anticipations  of  the  issue.  The 
whole  regular  infantry  of  the  Americans,  fit  for  duty  at 
this  moment,  was  eight  hundred  and  forty-three.  The 
cavalry  under  Washington  numbered  but  fifty-six  men 
who  were  mounted.  The  artillery,  commanded  by  Colonel 
Harrison,  nominally  a  regiment,  did  not  comprise  men 
enough  to  fight  three  pieces ;  and  the  militia  force  was 
but  two  hundred  and  fifty.  Portions  of  the  American 


KG  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

force  detached,  left  the  strength  of  Greene  very  nearly 
that  of  his  adversary.  That  of  the  British  has  been  esti 
mated  at  nine  hundred  men.  These  were  chiefly  Amer 
icans,  and  mostly  first-rate  marksmen.  Greene's  regulars 
had  seen  service  also.  He  had  with  him  the  favorite 
Maryland  regiment  of  Gunby,  which  had  behaved  so  gal 
lantly  at  Guilford ;  others  of  his  troops  had  seen  service 
in  the  same  field  ;  and  all  of  them  wore  such  an  aspect  of 
coolness  as  to  leave  him  in  no  apprehension  of  the  result. 
Still,  he  omitted  none  of  his  precautions.  His  baggage 
was  despatched  to  the  rear,  a  distance  of  several  miles, 
and  nothing  was  left  to  hazard,  which  the  exigencies  of 
battle  did  not  make  it  necessary  to  expose. 

Hobkirk's  hill  is  a  narrow  and  slight  elevation  —  a 
sandy  ridge  —  which  separates  the  head  springs  of  two 
small  rivulets.  The  encampment  of  Greene  occupied 
this  ridge.  By  his  order  of  battle,  the  left  wing  rested 
upon  the  swamp  of  Pine-tree  creek  ;  the  right  extended 
into  the  woods,  and  rested,  in  military  parlance.,  in  air, 
—  somewhat  protected  by  the  nature  of  the  ground,  and 
the  brush  and  felled  timber  which  was  spread  in  front. 
The  high-road  to  Camden  ran  through  the  centre  of  the 
line,  dividing  the  two  wings,  and  was  covered  by  the 
artillery,  which  had  been  received  just  in  season  to  be 
wheeled  into  position  at  the  enemy's  approach.  Igno 
rant  of  this  timely  arrival,  and  assuming  Greene  to  be 
wholly  without  artillery,  Rawdon  brought  none  —  his 
forbearance  to  do  so  enabling  him  to  advance  by  a 
route  on  which  his  cannon  could  not  operate.  The  bet 
tor  to  take  advantage  of  this  ignorance,  on  the  part  of 
the  enemy,  Greene  masked  his  pieces  by  closing  the  two 
centre  regiments  of  his  line  upon  the  road.  His  whole 
force  enabled  him  to  form  a  single  line  only.  The  two 
Virginia  regiments  under  General  Huger,  occupied  the 
right  of  the  road  ;  the  two  Maryland,  under  Colonel  Wil- 


BATTLE    OF    HOBKIRK's    HILL.  217 

liams,  the  left.  The  first  Virginia,  commanded  by  Colo 
nel  Campbell,  was  on  the  right  of  the  whole  ;  the  second 
Maryland,  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Ford,  on  the  left. 
The  second  Virginia,  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Hawes, 
and  the  first  Maryland,  under  Colonel  Gunby,  constitu 
ted  the  centre.  Colonel  Washington  and  the  small  mili 
tia  force,  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  under 
Colonel  Reid,  were  held  in  the  rear,  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  forming  a  second  line  or  reserve. 

Lord  Rawdon's  line  was  composed  of  the  63d  regi 
ment  on  the  right,  the  New  York  volunteers  in  the  centre, 
and  the  king's  American  regiment  on  the  left.  The 
right  was  supported  by  the  volunteers  of  Ireland,  the 
left  by  a  detachment  under  Captain  Robinson;  a  South 
Carolina  regiment  was  posted  with  the  cavalry,  forming, 
with  these,  nearly  one  half  of  his  troops,  which,  accord 
ingly,  presented  a  very  narrow  front.  Rawdon  had 
taken  a  hint  from  the  Americans,  and  had  employed 
flanking  parties  of  loyalists,  as  riflemen,  moving  abreast 
of  his  wing  among  the  trees.  This  judicious  arrange 
ment  served  greatly  toward  giving  him  the  advantage 
of  the  day.  His  advance  was  by  a  route  which  ren 
dered  it  impossible  to  announce  his  approach,  except  by 
the  fire  of  the  videttes.  These  were  nearly  a  mile  dis- 
tanc  from  the  encampment.  The  picket  guards,  under 
Morgan  and  Benson,  behaved  with  great  courage  and 
coolness,  gathering  in  the  videttes,  retiring  deliberately, 
and  forming  in  good  order  under  Captain  Kirkwood,  who 
was  posted,  with  the  remnant  of  the  Delawares,  in  an 
advanced  position  on  the  right.  These  and  the  ad 
vanced  parties  maintained  the  contest  with  an  obstinacy 
that  afforded  ample  time  to  the  American  army,  and  a 
beautiful  example,  as  they  retired,  of  deliberate  and  un 
shaken  valor.  The  auspices  seemed  highly  encouraging 
to  Greene,  as  the  British  army  came  in  sight;  having 
10 


218  LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

forced  their  way,  step  by  step,  through  the  thickets  into 
the  open  space,  where  the  Americans  were  csJmly 
awaiting  their  approach. 

Their  appearance  was  the  signal  for  the  unmasking 
and  opening  of  the  American  artillery.  The  effect  may 
well  be  imagined  of  such  a  surprise  upon  them.  Showers 
of  grape  among  their  ranks,  when  they  had  been  taught 
to  believe  that  Greene  was  wholly  without  artillery,  pro 
duced  instantaneous  results  of  confusion  and  dismay. 
At  this  moment,  struck  with  the  extreme  narrowness  of 
the  British  front,  Greene  seized  the  instant  of  their 
greatest  confusion,  to  give  orders  for  a  charge.  To 
close  upon  their  flanks  with  his  regiments  on  the  right 
and  left,  and  cut  oft' the  fragments  of  the  broken  column, 
seemed  to  require  but  a  single  order :  "  Let  the  cavalry 
make  for  their  rear — Colonel  Campbell  wheel  upon 
their  left,  Ford  upon  their  right  —  and  the  whole  centre 
charge  with  trailed  arms."  Such  was  the  prompt  com 
mand  delivered  to  his  attendants,  in  what  seemed  the  very 
moment  for  its  execution.  His  aids  flew  to  convey  it  to 
the  proper  captains.  The  roll  of  the  drum  announced 
their  tenor.  The  infantry  stretched  forward  right  and 
left ;  and  the  cavalry  of  Washington  disappeared  among 
the  trees,  making  the  necessary  circuit  which  would 
bring  them  into  the  British  rear. 

For  a  moment,  nothing  could  have  been  more  auspi 
cious  to  the  hopes  of  the  Americans.  Their  fire  had 
shown  itself  superior  to  that  of  the  enemy.  Tie  artil 
lery  had  done  its  work ;  and  the  ranks  which  had  suf 
fered  from  its  terrific  discharges,  had  failed  to  recover 
from  their  panic.  The  regiments  under  Campbell  and 
Ford  started  forward,  under  an  impetus  at  once  swift 
and  steady;  and  the  manoeuvre,  right  and  left,  upon  the 
flanks  of  the  enemy,  seemed  to  promise  the  most  con 
clusive  finish  to  the  grateful  beginnings  of  the  day.  A 


REVERSES    OF    THE    FIELD.  219 

feeble  and  ineffective  fire  from  the  flanking  companies 
of  the  British,  served  rather  to  stimulate,  than  to  dis 
courage,  their  assailants  ;  and  nothing  remained  to  pre 
vent  the  entire  success  of  the  Americans,  but  one  of 
those  capricious  whirls  of  fortune,  which  sometimes  lay 
the  best  plans,  arid  the  fairest  prospects,  prostrate  in  the 
dust. 

Greene  had  no  ordinary  opponent  in  Rawdon.  His 
steady  eye,  deliberate  and  stern  resolve,  and  ready 
resources,  made  him  a  formidable  adversary.  He,  too, 
beheld  the  danger  which  awaited  him,  and  of  which  the 
American  general  had  taken  such  instant  advantage. 
He  saw  the  force  by  which  his  flanks  were  threatened, 
and,  with  equal  promptness,  he  ordered  the  protrusion 
of  the  supporting  columns  of  his  army.  In  an  instant, 
the  Americans  were  outflanked,  their  wings  enfiladed, 
their  rear  threatened,  and  they  themselves  exposed  to 
the  very  same  peril  in  which  they  had  calculated  to  take 
their  enemy.  A  momentary  recoil  followed  in  the 
American  regiments.  With  equal  discipline  to  that  of 
the  enemy,  the  result  must  have  been  otherwise.  But 
the  firing  of  the  British  drew  the  fire  of  the  American 
centre  when  their  orders  had  been  to  reserve  it.  This 
centre  was  composed  of  the  very  flower  of  the  army,— % 
one  of  its  two  regiments  being  that  of  Gunby,  or  the 
1st  Maryland,  whose  conduct  at  Guilford  had  been  so 
conspicuous  for  its  bravery.  Firing  against  orders,  was 
one  proof  of  confusion,  which  was  increased  by  the  fall 
of  Captain  Beatty,  of  the  right  company  of  the  regiment, 
who  was  much  beloved,  and  who  was  stricken  down  by 
a  bullet  that  pierced  his  heart.  His  fall  checked  the 
progress  of  his  command.  The  halt  influenced  the  other 
companies.  It  became  a  panic  ;  it  spread  from  right  to 
left,  from  front  to  rear ;  and,  finally,  produced  the  recoil 
of  the  whole  regiment.  Unhappily,  while  Williams, 


22(J  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

Gunby,  and  Howard,  were  exhausting  themselves  in  the 
most  earnest  efforts  to  restore  firmness  and  consistency, 
Colonel  Ford  fell,  mortally  wounded,  while  gallantly 
leading  the  other  Maryland  regiment  on  the  American 
left.  The  death  of  their  leader,  and  the  halt  of  Gunby's 
veteran  command,  determined  their  career.  They  re 
coiled  also.  An  unhappy  error  of  Gunby,  who  hoped 
to  recover  his  first  line  by  halting  it,  instead  of  boldly 
pushing  forward  the  second  to  its  support,  was  easily 
mistaken  for  an  order  to  retreat.  A  retreat  it  became, 
accordingly  —  and  one,  which  all  efforts  soon  proved 
fruitless  to  prevent  or  to  repair. 

Greene,  at  this  period  of  disaster,  was  on  the  extreme 
right,  leading  on  Campbell's  regiment  in  person.  Called 
away  by  the  panic  in  the  centre,  he  in  vain  labored  to 
restore  order  amid  the  confusion  which  prevailed,  and 
to  bring  the  panic-stricken  soldiers,  once  more,  to  face 
the  enemy.  His  voice  and  presence  were  not  without 
effect.  A  brief  halt  was  obtained ;  but,  by  this  time, 
they  had  reached  the  opposite  foot  of  the  hill,  and  he 
was  recalled  to  the  field  by  the  exulting  shouts  of  the 
British.  Galloping  back  to  the  scene,  where  the  action 
still  continued,  Greene  was  enabled,  at  a  glance,  to  per 
ceive  the  whole  extent  of  his  misfortune.  The  regiment 
of  Hawes  was  that  only  which  remained  entire.  By  the 
advance  of  this  regiment,  and  the  retreat  of  the  other 
centre  regiment,  the  artillery  was  left,  uncovered,  upon 
the  summit  of  the  hill.  The  field  was  lost,  and  the 
danger  was  that  the  artillery  would  be  lost  also.  Greene 
perceived  its  peril  and  his  own.  He  was  on  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  stations  of  the  hill,  with  showers  of 
bullets  continually  flying  around  him ;  but  he  gave  his 
orders  with  a  degree  of  coolness  and  promptness,  which 
readily  communicated  itself  to  his  followers.  His  only 
hope  was,  to  draw  off  the  light  and  left  regiments  from 


BATTLE  OP  HOBKIRK'S  HILL.  221 

the  now  unequal  struggle,  and  form  them  on  the  regi 
ment  of  Gunby,  which  had  now  rallied;  while  Hawes, 
with  the  2d  Virginia,  should  cover  the  retrograde  move 
ment.  The  order  was  given  and  well  executed.  Hawes's 
regiment  retired  firing  and  fighting,  and  with  so  firm  a 
front,  as,  in  the  issue,  left  to  the  American  commandej* 
a  choice,  whether  to  renew  the  conflict,  or  effect  a  regu 
lar  and  orderly  retreat.  But  it  threatened  to  be  at  the 
price  of  the  artillery.  For  the  safety  of  his  cannon, 
Greene  had  ordered  to  the  spot  a  select  corps,  of  forty- 
five  men,  under  Captain  Smith,  the  same  officer  whose 
duel  with  Colonel  Stuart,  of  the  guards,  formed  so  con 
spicuous  an  incident  in  the  battle  of  Guilford.  But, 
before  Smith  could  reach  the  spot,  the  enemy,  with  loud 
shouts,  was  making  his  way  up  the  hill;  and  Captain 
Coffin,  at  the  head  of  the  British  cavalry,  was  darting 
forth  from  his  cover  in  the  woods,  to  join  in  the  pursuit. 
The  American  matrosses  were  already  quitting  the  drag- 
ropes,  when  Greene  galloped  up  alone — his  aids  being 
all  engaged  in  conveying  his  orders  —  and,  throwing 
himself  from  his  horse,  with  his  own  hands  seizing  upon 
the  ropes,  set  an  example  of  perseverance  and  resolu 
tion,  which  the  most  timid  found  it  impossible  to  resist. 
Smith's  corps  now  made  its  appearance,  and  his  men, 
their  muskets  in  one  hand,  applied  the  other  to  the 
ropes,  and  made  their  way  along  the  hill  with  the  artil 
lery.  But  the  approach  of  Coffin's  cavalry  arrested 
this  progress.  Then  it  was  that,  forming  in  the  rear  of 
the  artillery,  Smith's  little  band  encountered  the  charge 
of  their  enemy,  pouring  into  the  advancing  cavalry  a 
fire  so  destructive  as  to  compel  their  flight.  Again  and 
again,  however,  did  they  return  to  the  charge,  and  again 
were  they  foiled  and  driven  back  by  the  deliberate  aim 
and  steady  nerve  of  this  little  squad,  who,  in  the  inter 
vals,  still  pulled  the  ropes  of  the  artillery,  only  throwing 


222          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

them  aside  when  it  became  necessary  to  form  and  receive 
the  charge  of  cavalry.  But  this  game  could  not  be  con 
tinued  jng.  The  British  infantry  began  to  arrive. 
Their  marksmen  were  scattering  themselves  among  the 
trees,  and  their  dropping  fire  began  to  thin  Smith's  com 
pany.  His  forty-five  were  soon  reduced  to  fourteen. 
He  himself  was  badly  wounded ;  and,  though  he  held 
his  ground  with  unflagging  resolution,  it  was  evident 
that,  but  for  timely  succor,  he  must  be  lost.  Unhappily, 
before  this  succor  could  arrive,  an  irregular  fire  was 
drawn,  by  some  accident,  from  his  little  squadron,  and 
Coffin,  with  his  cavalry,  succeeded  in  forcing  his  ranks. 
Every  man  was  slain  or  taken.  The  artillery  now 
seemed  lost.  The  batmen  had  run  the  limbers  into  the 
woods,  cut  the  horses  out,  and  made  off  upon  them.  It 
was  at  this  moment  that  Colonel  Washington  charged  in 
upon  the  road,  and  put  an  end  to  the  contest.  This 
officer  had,  unhappily,  burdened  himself  with  prisoners. 
He  had  taken. more  than  two  hundred;  his  humanity 
revolting  at  those  summary  processes  by  which  Taiieton 
would  have  escaped  the  encumbrance.  Each  of  his 
troopers  bore  his  captive  behind  him,  when  the  disaster 
of  the  army  rendered  necessary  the  final  charge  which 
extricated  the  artillery.  Flinging  off  his  prisoners  for  the 
onset,  Washington  drove  the  British  cavalry  up  the  hill, 
and  checked  their  farther  pursuit  of  the  retiring  regi 
ments.  The  artillery  was  carried  off  in  safety,  and 
Greene,  without  farther  molestation,  continued  the 
retreat. 

Two  miles  from  the  field  of  battle,  he  halted  to  col 
lect  his  stragglers,  renewing  his  march  in  the  afternoon, 
and  encamping  for  the  night  on  Saunder's  creek.  Here 
he  remained  until  the  25th,  not  without  the  hope  that 
Rawdon,  encouraged  by  his  success,  would  attempt  to 
renew  the  battle.  But  the  enemy  did  not  venture  to 


MORTIFICATION    OF    GREENE.  223 

repeat  the  experiment,  and  it  is  a  curious  fact,  that  by 
a  stratagem  of  Colonel  Washington,  the  field  of  battle 
really  remained  in  his  possession.  Rawdon,  with  the 
retreat  of  Greene,  had  taken  up  the  line  of  march  for 
Camden,  leaving  Coffin  with  his  cavalry  and  a  detach 
ment  of  mounted  infantry,  on  the  ground.  Advised  of 
this  arrangement,  Washington  placed  his  cavalry  in  a 
thicket  on  the  roadside,  having  pushed  forward  a  small 
party,  with  instructions  to  suffer  themselves  to  be  seen 
by  Coffin's  troops,  and  then,  by  flight  and  a  show  of 
panic,  to  beguile  them  into  pursuit.  The  bait  was  taken, 
and  the  entire  troop  of  Coffin  darted  headlong  in  the 
chase.  Brought  within  the  snare,  Washington's  cavalry 
dashed  out  upon  them,  and  the  whole  party  were  either 
cut  to  pieces,  or  compelled  to  disperse  for  safety. 

Grateful  as  he  was  for  this  success,  the  mortification 
of  Greene,  at  the  issue  of  the  combat,  was  almost 
wholly  without  consolation.  The  cup  of  victory  had 
been  snatched  from  his  lips  while  the  draught  was  most 
grateful  and  ready  for  the  taste.  He  had  made  the  most 
skilful  disposition  of  his  troops ;  he  had  omitted  no  pre 
cautions  ;  he  had  placed  in  the  post  of  danger  the  sol 
diers  whom  he  had  reason  to  suppose  the  most  assured 
and  steady ;  and  fortune  had  pronounced  against  all  his 
plans  and  all  his  calculations.  The  victory  was  already 
in  his  grasp.  The  effect  of  his  artillery  had  produced 
consternation  in  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  —  they  were 
already  faltei  ing,  and  the  cool  obedience  to  his  orders, 
as  shown  by  the  flanking  regiments,  had  only  to  be  sus 
tained  by  the  steady  advance  of  the  centre  with  the  bay 
onet,  and  the  British,  from  wing  to  wing,  must  have 
been  swept  from  the  field.  The  fall  of  Camden  must 
have  followed,  and  this  must  have  brought  with  it,  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  the  rapid  surrender  of  all  the 
British  posts  from  the  mountains  to  the  seaboard.  Bit 


224          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

terly  did  Greene  reflect  upon  the  inauspicious  fortune 
which  had  so  frequently  interposed  to  snatch  the  cup  of 
hope  from  his  lips  to  replace  it  by  the  cup  of  trembling ! 
His  troops  had  not  behaved  badly.  They  had  fought, 
on  the  whole,  with  great  spirit.  A  portion  of  them  had 
shown  the  tenacious  courage  of  veterans,  holding  on  to 
the  foe  with  a  bulldog  resolution  which  gave  the  most 
flattering  assurances  of  success.  It  was  the  unhappy 
error  of  Gunby,  whose  order  to  his  first  line  to  halt, 
when  he  saw  them  faltering,  was  unwise  and  unmilitary. 
"  Gunby,"  says  Greene,  in  a  letter,  *'  was  the  sole  cause 
of  the  defeat.  I  found  him  much  more  blameable  after 
ward,  than  I  represented  him  in  my  public  letters."  A 
court  of  inquiry  pronounced  upon  his  conduct.  They 
approved  equally  his  courage  and  activity.  His  zeal 
and  spirit  were  beyond  all  cavil.  They  censured  the 
order  which  he  had  given  to  his  regiment,  but  as  an 
error  of  judgment  only,  and  from  which  flowed  all  the 
evil  consequences  of  the  day.  The  battle  had  been  suf 
ficiently  bloody  for  the  number  of  troops  engaged,  and 
the  loss  of  the  opposing  armies  was  nearly  equal.  "  Thti 
enemy,"  according  to  Greene,  "  had  more  than  one  third 
of  their  whole  force  engaged,  either  killed  or  wounded ; 
and  we  had  not  less  than  one  quarter."  If  the  Ameri 
cans  lost  the  victory,  the  barren  honors  of  the  field  were 
all  that  his  success  secured  for  Rawdou. 


RESULTS    OF    THE    CONFLICT.  225 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

Rawdon  attempts  the  Camp  of  Greene. — Evacuates  and  destroys  Cam- 
den. — Capture  of  Fort  Motte  and  other  Posts  by  the  Partisans.— 
Rawdon  at  Monk's  Corner. — Marion  takes  Georgetown — Pickens 
Augusta.—  Greene  besieges  Ninety-Six — Attempts  to  storm  it,  and  ia 
defeated  with  Loss. 

THE  event  of  the  battle  of  Hobkirk's  hill,  though  unfa 
vorable  to  the  Americans,  did  not  materially  change  the 
situation  of  the  parties.  Any  successes  of  the  British 
which  failed  to  destroy  their  adversaries,  or  drive  them 
out  of  the  state,  —  any  advantage,  falling  short  of  a 
complete  victory,  —  would  fail  in  effecting  for  them  any 
advantageous  change  in  their  situation.  The  army  of 
Greene  was  chiefly  important  to  the  southern  states,  at 
this  juncture,  as  it  afforded  a  countenance  to  the  whig 
population,  and,  by  keeping  the  foreign  troops  of  the 
enemy  in  constant  anxiety  and  expectation,  gave  an 
opportunity  to  the  native  partisan  leaders,  to  cope  with 
the  British  detachments  and  their  tory  allies.  There 
was  nothing,  therefore,  beyond  the  natural  mortification 
of  defeat,  in  the  recent  battle,  to  discourage  the  hopes, 
or  compel  a  change  in  the  plans,  of  the  American  gen 
eral.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  much  to  qualify  the 
satisfaction  which  Rawdon  felt  in  his  victory.  The 
spirit  of  his  troops,  his  own  merits  and  good  fortune, 
had  brought  him  success ;  but  it  had  been  dearly  paid 
for,  and  it  was  incomplete.  His  strength  had  been 
lessened  in  the  struggle,  while  that  of  his  adversary  ap 
peared  undimim'sbed.  BV*  had  been  compelled  to  retire 
10* 


226  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

within  his  works  at  Camden,  and  the  Americans  still 
gathered  in  his  neighborhood.  They  had  been  driven, 
but  not  out  of  sight;  and  he  was  in  no  condition  to 
renew  the  attempt  at  their  destruction  or  expulsion  — 
not,  certainly,  with  his  present  force,  encumbered  with 
wounded,  nor  until  the  arrival  of  his  reinforcements  un 
der  Watson.  The  fate  of  this  command  was  neces 
sarily,  a  subject  of  the  greatest  anxiety. 

To  prevent  the  junction  of  the  force  under  Watson  — 
estimated  at  six  hundred  men,  with  four  field-pieces — 
with  that  of  Rawdon,  was  the  first  subject  of  considera 
tion  with  Greene.  Marion  and  Lee  were  employed  to 
cover  the  intervening  country,  and  arrest  his  march, 
should  he  make  for  Camden.  The  last  intelligence  re 
ported  him  to  be  still  in  Georgetown,  and  inactive  ;  and 
Greene  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  himself,  that, 
with  the  vigilant  eyes  of  Sumter,  Marion,  and  Lee,  upon 
his  movements,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  make 
his  way  to  the  stronghold  of  Rawdon.  But  the  troops 
under  our  partisans,  however  swift  arid  vigilant,  were 
not  sufficiently  numerous  to  compass  sucn  an  extent 
of  country,  so  as  to  guard  equally  all  its  avenues ;  and 
Watson  had  large  merits  of  his  own  as  a  partisan,  which 
his  own  and  the  necessities  of  his  superior  compelled 
him  to  put  in  active  requisition.  With  the  co-operation 
of  Major  INI' Arthur,  an  intelligent  and  adroit  captain  of 
cavalry,  he  succeeded  in  masking  his  real  movements, 
and  eluding  the  vigilance  of  his  enemies.  They  had 
attempted  too  much  with  their  small  commands,  and 
Watson  succeeded  in  making  his  way  into  Camden. 

The  junction   of  this  force  with  that  already  in  the 
garrison  at  Camden,  by  increasing  the  strength  of  Raw 
don  very  much   beyond   that  of  Greene,  rendered  the 
situation  of  the  latter  somewhat  critical.     In  connexion 
with  rumors  of  tlie  approach  of  Cornwallis  from  Vir* 


CONDITION    OF    GIlGENK's    FORCES.  227 

ginia,  it  compelled  him  to  exercise  all  his  vigilance  with 
regard  to  his  own  safety.  He  foresaw  that  Rawdon's 
increase  of  strength  would  naturally  prompt  him  to 
resume  active  operations  in  the  field,  and  a  proper 
reflection  taught  him  to  look  for  the  first  blow  from  the 
enemy.  His  first  duty  was  to  evade  the  conflict,  to 
which  he  was  still  unequal ;  and,  accordingly,  on  receiv 
ing  the  tidings  of  Watson's  good  fortune,  he  set  his 
army  in  motion  to  increase  the  space  that  separated  him 
from  Rawdon.  Retiring  to  a  strong  position  on  the  far 
ther  side  of  Colonel's  creek,  he  drew  up  his  army  in 
order  of  battle,  and  awaited  his  enemy. 

Rawdon  was  not  long  in  making  his  appearance.  He 
dro^e  in  the  American  pickets,  reconnoitred  their  po 
sition,  and,  finding  it  too  strong  to  be  forced  he  drew 
off*  his  army,  and  returned  once  more  to  Camden.  This 
respectful  behavior  carried  with  it  few  consolations  to 
the  mind  of  Greene.  His  condition,  and  that  of  the 
country,  can  be  shown  in  no  more  forcible  language 
than  that  of  Colonel  Davie.  "  This  evening,"  says  he  — 
the  9th  of  May,  the  day  after  Rawdon's  demonstration  — 
"  the  general  sent  for  me  earlier  than  usual.  I  found  the 
map  on  the  table,  and  he  introduced  the  business  of  the 
night  with  the  following  striking  observation :  '  You 
see  that  we  must  again  resume  the  partisan  war. 
Rawdon  has  now  a  decided  superiority  of  force.  He 
has  pushed  us  to  a  sufficient  distance  to  leave  him  tree 
to  act  on  any  object  within  his  reach.  He  will  strike  at 
Lee  and  Marion,  reinforce  himself  by  all  the  troops  that 
can  be  spared  from  the  several  garrisons,  and  push  me 
back  to  the  mountains.  .  .  .  You  observe  our  dangerous 
and  critical  situation.  The  regular  troops  are  now  re 
duced  to  a  handful,  and  I  am  ^without  militia  to  perform 
the  convoy  or  detachment  service,  or  any  prospect  of 
receiving  any  reinforcement.  .  .  .  North  Carolina,  dis- 


228  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

pirited  by  the  loss  of  her  regular  troops  in  Charleston, 
stunned  into  a  kind  of  stupor  by  the  defeat  of  General 
Gates,  and  held  in  check  by  Major  Craig  and  the  loyal 
ists,  makes  no  effort  of  any  kind.  Congress  seems  to 
have  lost  sight  of  the  southern  states,  and  to  have  aban 
doned  them  to  their  fate ;  so  much  so,  that  I  am  even  as 
much  distressed  for  ammunition  as  for  men.  We  must 
always  calculate  on  the  maxim,  that  your  enemy  will  do 
what  he  ought  to  do.  We  will  dispute  every  inch  of 
ground  in  the  best  manner  we  can  ;  but  Rawdon  will 
push  me  back  to  the  mountains.  Lord  Cornwallis  will 
establish  a  chain  of  posts  along  James  river ;  and  the 
southern  states,  thus  cut  off,  will  die  like  the  tail  of  a 
snake." 

These  were  melancholy  forebodings.  The  mind  of 
Greene,  naturally  cheerful  and  elastic,  was  overborne, 
temporarily,  by  the  pressure  of  defeat  and  the  grief  of 
hopes  deferred.  But,  however  gloomy,  he  did  not  yield 
to  despondency.  The  native  hue  of  resolution  did  not 
abandon  his  heart.  Nor  was  the  case  so  bad  as  his 
melancholy  mood  had  painted  it.  He  had  been  driven 
rather  than  defeated,  and  his  disappointments  had  never 
been  coupled  with  any  real  occasion  for  the  exultation 
of  the  enemy.  His  great  prudence  had  served,  in  almost 
every  instance,  to  save  him  from  material  injury.  His 
recuperative  faculties  were  great,  and  there  were  cir 
cumstances,  in  the  progress  of  the  struggle,  that  were 
full  of  future  promise  to  the  cause.  The  increase  of 
Rawdon's  force  at  Camden  did  not  imply  anything  but 
a  temporary  gain.  It  gave  him  a  momentary  advantage 
over  his  enemy,  but  was  not  adequate  to  the  necessities 
which  grew  around  him.  His  chain  of  posts,  already 
broken  by  the  loss  of  Fort  Watson,  was  still  farther 
threatened  by  the  active  partisans  of  Carolina.  Marion 
was  even  now  besieging  Fort  Motte,  while  Sumter  and 


INCREASE    CF    PARTISANS.  -  229 

Pickens  were  preparing  for  the  investment  of  Granby 
Augusta,  and  Orangeburg.  These,  unless  with  timely 
succor  from  the  main  army,  must  soon  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  Americans ;  and,  thus  threatened  with  isolation, 
with  the  several  detached  parties  of  tbe  native  militia 
assembled  in  co-operation  with  Greene's  army  around 
Camden,  that  garrison  must  succumb  also.  The  pros 
pect  was  scarcely  more  grateful  to  Rawdon  than  to 
Greene  ;  and  a  progress  that  we  have  forborne  to  touch 
upon,  had  contributed  to  awaken  the  most  lively  appre 
hensions  on  the  part  of  the  British  and  their  tory  allies. 
This  had  arisen  in  consequence  of  the  unexpected 
growth  and  appearance  of  new  bands  of  whig  partisans 
in  every  part  of  the  state.  In  addition  to  those  which 
followed  Sumter,  Marion,  and  Pickens,  they  were  every 
where  rising  in  proof  of  a  revival  of  the  revolutionary 
spirit.  The  career  of  Major  Harden  had  exercised  a 
highly  important  influence  in  the  lower  country.  De 
tached  by  Marion  with  seventy  select  men,  well  mounted, 
he  had  crossed  the  enemy's  line  of  communication ; 
and,  penetrating  the  country  southwest  from  Charleston, 
he  had  roused  a  spirit  of  hope  and  resistance,  which 
was  full  of  the  most  beneficial  results.  Rapid  in  move 
ment,  appearing  unexpectedly  in  the  settlements,  he  had 
taken  the  enemy  by  surprise  everywhere,  and  rendered 
himself -the  terror  of  the  loyalists  of  that  region.  His 
force  gathered  with  its  progress.  His  seventy  grew  to 
hundreds ;  and,  after  scourging  summarily  the  disaf 
fected  along  the  banks  of  the  Savannah,  in  Georgia  as 
well  as  South  Carolina,  —  mocking  all  plans  to  entrap, 
and  all  efforts  to  subdue  or  overtake  him,— he  darted 
upward  in  season  to  unite  with  Pickens,  then  operating 
against  Augusta. 

This  was  but  one  instance  of  many  similar  progresses 
which  were  calculated  to  encourage  the  hopes  of  the 


230  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

Americans,  and  alarm  the  British  general  with  regard 
to  the  growing  dangers  of  his  fortune.  Rawdon  felt  too 
surely  that  his  successes  had  been  illusory.  They  could 
not  suffice  to  lessen  the  perils  of  his  situation.  His  onl} 
hope  would  be  to  beguile  his  enemy  into  a  pitched  bat 
tle  ;  but  his  recent  attempt  to  do  so,  satisfied  him  that 
his  antagonist  was  quite  too  wary  to  incur  any  unneces 
sary  perils,  in  a  game  which  circumspection  must  secure. 
In  this  lay  his  only  hope,  and  it  was  one  which  the 
character  of  Greene  forbade  him  to  indulge.  Denied 
this  hope,  he  felt,  momently  increasing,  the  apprehension 
of  being  cut  off  from  the  seaboard.  It  was  now  known 
that  no  help  was  to  be  expected  from  Cornwallis,  whose 
march  to  Virginia  was  beyond  dispute ;  and,  with  this 
knowledge  in  the  American  camp,  Greene  felt  fully  as 
sured  of  the  course  of  his  opponent,  in  consequence  of  a 
just  appreciation  of  the  critical  exigency  of  his  situation. 
A  single  day  altered  the  aspect  of  his  fortunes,  and  his 
own.  We  have,  again,  the  testimony  of  General  Davie  : 
"  I  employed  the  whole  night  in  writing,  until  an  orderly- 
sergeant  summoned  me  to  headquarters,  about  daylight. 
On  entering  the  general's  tent,  I  soon  perceived  some  im 
portant  change  had  taken  place.  '  I  have  sent  for  you,' 
said  he,  with  a  countenance  expressing  the  most  lively 
pleasure,  '  to  inform  you  that  Lord  Rawdon  is  preparing 
to  evacuate  Camden.  That  place  was  the  key  of  the 
enemy's  line  of  posts.  They  will  now  all  fall,  or  be 
evacuated.  All  will  now  go  well." 

The  orders  of  Rawdon  had  already  gone  forth  for  the 
abandonment  of  Ninety-Six.  Cruger,  who  commanded 
at  that  place,  was  to  remove  his  command  to  Augusta, 
which  was  threatened  by  Pickens.  Rawdon,  himself, 
meditated,  by  his  own  march,  to  save  Fort  Motte,  and, 
possibly,  the  farther  posts  of  Orangeburg  and  Granby. 
At  all  events,  the  British  general  was  preporing  to  yield 


RAWDON  EVACUATES  AND  DESTROYS  CAMDEN.   231 

before  the  army  which  his  increase  of  strength  had  not 
enabled  him  to  subdue.  The  departure,  like  the  ap 
proach,  of  the  British,  was  usually  marked  by  desolation, 
Camden  was  given  to  the  flames,  and  left  in  ruins.  Had 
the  militia  promised  from  Virginia  been  sent  to  Greene 
in  season,  the  British  general  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  left  Camden  as  a  prisoner,  rather  than  a  destroyer. 
He  had  not  moved  a  moment  too  soon.  The  garrison 
was  already  straitened  for  provisions  ;  and  the  arrival  of 
the  Virginia  militia,  or  the  co-operation  of  the  severa* 
commands  of  Sumter,  Marion,  Pickens,  and  Lee,  after 
the  fall  of  the  several  posts  against  which  they  operated, 
must  have  had  but  one  issue  in  his  overthrow. 

Rawdon's  movement  was  not  in  season  for  the  Belief 
of  Fort  Motte.  It  had  already  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
Marion.  The  posts  at  Orangeburg  and  Granby  had 
also  been  surrendered  to  Sumter  and  Lee,  before  he 
could  approach  them,  and  his  own  march  was  watched 
by  Marion's  parties.  He  pursued  the  route  toward 
Charleston.  Greene  had  also  put  his  army  in  motion, 
in  order  to  cover  the  detachments  of  Marion  and  Lee, 
which  he  supposed  still  engaged  in  the  leaguer  of  Fort 
Motte.  Sumter,  whose  impetuosity  and  enterprise  were 
ever  the  most  striking  elements  in  his  military  character, 
now  strenuously  urged  upon  Greene  the  plan  of  uniting 
with  Lee  and  Marion,  and  making  an  attempt  upon  the 
army  of  Rawdon.  But  the  American  general  preferred 
the  safe  game  to  the  perilous  one,  however  brilliant; 
and  the  conquest  of  the  posts  of  the  interior,  presented 
themselves  to  his  mind  as  the  most  legitimate  object, 

Rawdon,  meanwhile,  made  his  way  forward,  without 
interruption,  until  he  reached  Monk's  corner,  where,  for 
the  time,  he  established  himself,  leaving  the  country  all 
above  him  in  the  hands  of  the  Americans,  with  the 
exception  of  the  posts  at  Ninety-Six,  Augusta,  and  its 


2«J  I  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENB. 

neighborhoods.  The  latter,  pressed  by  Pickens  andi 
Lee,  were  soon  yielded  to  the  skill  and  courage  of  the 
assailants,  though  not  without  a  fierce  and  bloody  resist 
ance.  The  capture  of  Forts  Grierson  and  Cornwallis 
was  distinguished  by  one  of  those  instances  of  sudden 
and  terrible  retribution,  which  conferred  a  character,  so 
personal  and  vindictive,  on  the  warfare  in  South  Caro 
lina.  Colonel  Grierson  had  become,  with  other  obnox 
ious  enemies,  particularly  odious  to  the  Americans  by 
his  savage  barbarities.  It  was  while  Pickens  was  absent 

O 

from  the  camp,  that  a  person  unknown  —  disguised,  per 
haps,  sufficiently  to  escape  identification  —  dashed  on 
horseback  into  the  house  where  Grierson  was  kept,  and, 
without  dismounting,  shot  him  dead,  wheeling  about 
and  escaping  before  he  could  be  arrested.  The  inci 
dent  reminds  us  of  one  in  Scott's  poem  of  Rokeby, 
where  the  outlawed  Bertram  rides  into  the  church, 
amid  the  assembled  congregation,  and  shoots  down  his 
victim  at  the  foot  of  the  altar.  So  obnoxious  had  the 
prisoners,  taken  on  this  occasion,  become  to  the  major 
ity  of  the  militia  of  Pickens's  command,  in  consequence 
of  their  monstrous  and  frequent  atrocities,  that  the  lives 
of  others  were  attempted,  and  their  commander  was 
compelled  to  send  them  to  Greene  at  Ninety-Six,  in 
order  to  protect  them  from  the  unsparing  revenges  of 
the  families  they  had  outraged  by  their  crimes. 

Greene,  meanwhile,  almost  for  the  first  time  with  an 
open  field  before  him,  —  his  apprehensions  of  Rawdon 
at  rest  for  the  moment,  —  pressed  forward,  with  all  dili 
gence,  for  the  purpose  of  investing  Ninety-Six.  The 
task  of  holding  Rawdon  in  check,  and  confining  him  to 
the  neighborhood  of  the  sea,  was  confided  to  Marion 
and  Sumter.  In  the  execution  of  this  duty,  they  closed 
upon  the  British  general,  until  he  found  it  necessary  to 
fence  himself  in  with  a  new  chain  of  fortified 


THE    POST    AT    NINETY-SIX.  233 

extending  from  Georgetown,  by  Monk's  corner,  Dor 
chester,  and  other  points,  to  Coosawhatchie.  But  the 
partisans,  daily  becoming  bolder,  did  not  hesitate  to  dash 
at  intervals  within  the  limits  of  this  cordon,  and  to  ruffle 
the  dovecotes  even  within  hail  of  Charleston.  Marion, 
strengthened  sufficiently  to  leave  a  strong  force  of  volun 
teers  for  the  protection  of  the  country  along  the  Santee, 
directed  his  attention  to  Georgetown,  which  he  took, 
expelling  the  garrison  and  demolishing  the  works.  His 
lieutenant,  Horry,  had  succeeded  in  silencing  and  sub 
duing  the  loyalists  along  the  Pee  Dee ;  and,  in  the 
activity  of  the  several  parties  under  these  commanders, 
Rawdon  soon  found  himself  greatly  straitened  in  his 
resources,  and  threatened  in  his  securities.  They  were 
not  in  sufficient  strength  for  any  open  demonstration  in 
his  neighborhood  ;  but  they  traversed  the  country  almost 
beneath  his  eyes,  sweeping  off  the  herds,  and  cutting 
oft  his  foragers.  Thus  watched,  pursued,  and  environed 
by  the  most  sleepless  and  restless  foes,  Rawdon  was 
compelled  to  gnash  his  teeth  in  inactivity,  while  Greene 
was  making  his  approaches  to  the  important  and  strong 
post  of  Ninety-Six. 

The  siege  of  this  place  constituted  one  of  the  most 
stubborn  and  animated  contests  of  the  campaign.  It 
was  a  position  of  great  strength,  well  fortified,  and  with 
a  numerous  garrison.  Greene,  soon  after  reconnoitring 
it,  expressed  his  apprehensions  of  failure.  "  The  fortifi 
cations  are  so  strong,  the  garrison  so  large  and  so  well 
furnished,  that  our  success  is  doubtful."  It  was  held  by 
Colonel  Cruger,  an  American  loyalist  of  skill  and  cour 
age ;  and  no  pains,  that  zeal  and  industry  could  suggest 
or  employ,  were  spared  in  preparing  for  the  leaguer 
Numerous  slaves  were  employed  to  relieve  the  garrison 
from  laborious  services ;  while  abundant  supplies  of 
provisions  precluded  all  hope  of  starving  them  into  sub 


234  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE.       . 

mission.  Originally  a  stockade,  raised  by  the  first  in 
habitants  as  a  barrier  to  Indian  incursion,  the  post  of 
Ninety-Six,  or  Cambridge,  became  the  site  of  a  village 
bearing  the  latter  name.  Lying  a  few  miles  to  the 
south  of  the  Soluda,  and  less  than  forty  from  the  Savan 
nah  river,  it  constituted  an  important  position  for  the 
control  and  keeping  of  a  large  and  exposed  frontier 
The  name  of  Ninety-Six  was  derived  from  the  distance 
at  which  it  stood  from  Fort  Prince  G-eorge,  another 
post  which  had  been  planted  among  the  Cherokee  towns 
along  the  Keowee.  The  spot  was  otherwise  distin 
guished  as  the  scene  of  the  first  conflicts  in  the  southern, 
and  perhaps  in  the  revolutionary  war.  At  this  place,  in 
1775,  commenced  that  dreadful  civil  war  between  the 
patriots  and  loyalists,  which,  afterward,  desolated  the 
country.  Many  of  the  present  defenders  of  Ninety-Six, 
under  Cruger,  were  natives,  who  had  distinguished  them 
selves  by  their  ferocity,  and  who  now  fought  with  halters 
about  their  necks.  That  they  should  fight  desperately 
and  well,  it  is  easy  to  conjecture. 

The  simple  works  of  defence  which  originally  cov 
ered  the  spot,  were  strengthened  by  others  of  superior 
character,  as  soon  as  Cornwallis  resolved  that  it  should 
be  occupied.  Select  British  engineers  were  employed 
for  this  purpose,  and  new  works  were  raised,  with  a  clue 
regard  to  all  the  requisitions  of  military  science.  Among 
these  works  was  a  redoubt,  in  the  form  of  a  star,  with  six 
teen  salient  and  returning  angles.  It  stood  within  rifle 
shot  to  the  southeast  of  the  village.  It  was  manned  with 
three  pieces  of  artillery,  worked  on  wheeled  carriages, 
which  enabled  its  defenders  to  sweep  any  point  along  the 
horizon  ;  while  the  rifles  of  a  numerous  garrison  covered 
the  more  limited  range  with  crossing  fires,  from  which  it 
was  scarcely  possible  that  any  assailants  should  escape 
A  dry  ditch,  frieze,  and  abatis,  by  which  it  was  sur 


SIEGE    OF    NINETY-SIX.  235 

rounded,  still  farther  increased  the  strength  of  the  po 
sition,  and  lessened  the  chances  of  successful  assault 
upon  the  defenders.  Opposite,  at  a  distance  of  nearly 
two  hundred  yards,  a  stockade  fort,  which  enclosed  two 
blockhouses  of  strength,  occupied  the  crown  of  a  small 
eminence.  A  little  valley,  traversed  by  a  streamlet,  which 
afforded  water  to  the  garrison,  divided  this  fortress  from 
the  village,  and  was  reached  by  a  covert  way.  Con 
tiguous  to  this  valley,  and  as  a  protection  on  the  right, 
the  county  jail  had  been  converted  into  a  castle,  and 
was  strongly  garrisoned  also.  The  several  places  of 
defence  lay  within  easy  reach  and  support  of  one 
another,  and  numerously  held,  with  ample  supplies  of 
food  and  ammunition,  might  well  discourage  the  inferior 
and  ill-provided  army  with  which  Greene  prepared  to 
undertake  the  leaguer.  His  force,  exclusive  of  militia, 
did  not  exceed  a  thousand  men,  and  left  him  without 
the  means  of  assailing  the  garrison  except  on  a  single 
side.  He  had  sat  down  before  the  place  on  the  22d  of 
May,  commencing  his  examination  in  person,  accom 
panied  by  the  celebrated  Kosciuzko,  his  chief  engineer, 
and  one  of  his  aids,  and,  under  cover  of  a  thick  and 
rainy  night,  approaching  so  near  the  works  as  to  be 
challenged  and  fired  upon  by  the  sentinels.  The  star 
redoubt  was  selected  as  the  most  conspicuous  object  for 
attack,  as  it  commanded  all  the  others.  Yet  Greene 
was  totally  without  battering  cannon,  and  in  such  a 
deficiency,  the  only  modes  of  procedure  were  by  simple 
blockade,  by  mining,  or  by  storm.  The  former  process, 
the  garrison  having  abundance  of  provisions,  it  was 
useless  to  attempt :  Greene  resolved  upon  trying  both 
the  remaining  modes.  Had  it  been  known  that  the 
garrison  had  failed  to  procure  water  by  digging  within 
the  redoubt,  it  would  have  been  easy  to  cut  them  off 
from  the  stream  which  wound  through  the  valley; — but, 


236          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

as,  on  a  previous  occasion,  a  well  had  been  sunk  within 
the  redoubt,  affording  ample  quantities,  the  besiegers 
had  no  reason  to  doubt  that  a  similar  experiment  would 
be  followed  by  the  same  result. 

The  besiegers  broke  ground  on  the  23d ;  and,  pro 
ceeding  by  regular  approaches,  on  the  3d  of  June  the 
second  parallel  was  completed.  Numbering  but  twice 
the  force  of  the  garrison,  the  duty  fell  severely  upon  the 
Americans  of  fighting  and  working,  with  little  relief  or 
cessation.  On  completing  the  first  parallel,  a  mine, 
directed  against  the  star  redoubt,  was  commenced,  under 
cover  of  a  battery  which  had  been  thrown  up  on  the 
enemy's  right.  Day  and  night,  the  work  was  pursued 
by  the  besiegers.  Now  laboring  in  the  ditches, — now 
watching  over  those  who  labored,  —  and  sleeping,  where 
they  toiled,  on  their  arms,  with  the  view  to  repel  the 
sallies  of  the  besieged  —  their  hours  of  rest  and  respite 
were  exceedingly  limited.  The  besieged  showed  neither 
want  of  energy  nor  spirit.  Their  sallies  were  frequent, 
marked  by  great  audacity,  and  usually  resulted  in  pro 
longed  and  bloody  conflicts.  The  steady  progress  of 
the  American  works  sufficiently  prove,  that,  however 
bold,  the  sallies  of  the  garrison  were  without  any  pro 
ductive  results.  They  proved  rather  their  courage  and 
daring,  than  their  ability  and  strength.  Not  a  night 
passed  without  battle  and  the  loss  of  life. 

With  the  completion  of  the  second  parallel,  the  gar 
rison  was  summoned  to  surrender.  A  courtly  defiance 
was  Cruger's  answer.  The  third  and  last  parallel  was 
immediately  begun,  and  prosecuted  with  a  degree  of 
vigor  which  the  exhausted  state  of  the  army  would  have 
scarcely  promised.  It  was  at  this  moment,  when  most 
he  needed  his  recruits,  that  Greene  was  apprized  that  the 
Virginia  militia,  two  thousand  in  number,  for  whom  he 
had  been  looking  so  long,  had  been  diverted  in  another 


DISCOURAGEMENTS    OF    THE    SIEGE.  237 

quarter  by  the  governor  of  that  state.  He  had  com 
menced  his  operations  against  Ninety-Six,  in  anticipa 
tion  of  this  body  of  men.  The  militia  of  South  Carolina 
and  Georgia  were  barely  adequate  to  the  duty  of  keep 
ing  Rawdon  and  the  tories  in  check.  Those  under 
Pickens  were  still  engaged  in  the  siege  of  Augusta. 
Could  the  Virginians  have  arrived  in  season,  the  siege 
could  have  been  pressed  at  once  to  conclusion,  and  the 
place,  in  spite  of  the  vigor  of  its  defence,  must  have 
soon  fallen  into  his  hands.  What  rendered  the  proceed 
ing  particularly  ungracious,  which  deprived  him  of  the 
Virginia  militia,  was  the  fact,  that,  for  the  defence  of 
this  very  state,  he  had  voluntarily  deprived  himself  of 
his  whole  disposable  force.  It  was  at  his  instance,  when 
Cornwallis  was  found  to  be  pressing  upon  Virginia,  that 
Lafayette  had  been  ordered  back,  —  that  the  troops  of 
Pennsylvania,  on  their  way  south,  had  been  halted  and 
made  to  act  under  Lafayette  and  Steuben,  —  and  that 
the  North-Carolina  levies,  actually  on  their  way  to  join 
him,  had  been  sent  in  the  same  direction  to  the  succor 
of  the  sister  state.  And  this  magnanimity  had  been 
shown  by  Greene  immediately  after  the  battle  of  Cam- 
den,  when  he  was  lying  in  front  of  a  superior  enemy, 
and  destitute  of  almost  everything. 

He  could  only  complain  and  remonstrate  against  this 
treatment.  He  had  no  other  remedy.  To  issue  new 
orders  to  the  North-Carolina  levies  to  join  him  instead 
of  proceeding  to  Virginia,  —  to  make  a  new  effort  to 
raise  troops  in  South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  —  and  to 
concentrate  all  his  present  strength  upon  the  present 
object — that  of  bringing  the  garrison  of  Ninety-Six  to 
their  knees  with  all  rapidity,  —  were  the  tasks  before 
him,  and  to  which  all  his  energies  were  now  addressed. 
With  the  commencement  of  his  third  parallel  against 
the  star  redoubt,  the  sallies  of  the  garrison  were  increased 


3S  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

in  frequency  and  spirit.  The  fighting  was  incessant 
Their  three  pieces  were  used  with  equal  vigor  and 
judgment,  and  it  became  necessary  to  silence  them  if 
possible.  Rude  towers  of  roughly-hewn  logs  were 
raised,  of  sufficient  solidity  to  withstand  the  weight  of 
the  shot  thrown  by  the  garrison.  These  were  manned 
with  marksmen,  whose  fire,  from  a  commanding  position, 
soon  picked  the  artillerists  from  their  guns.  Red-hot 
shot  were  employed,  by  the  besieged,  for  the  destruction 
of  these  towers;  but  the  green  wood  of  which  they 
were  constructed,  baffled  the  fervor  of  the  flames.  Si 
lenced  during  the  day,  the  artillery  of  the  garrison  was 
employed  for  a  while,  fruitlessly,  at  night ;  but  this  prac 
tice  was  soon  abandoned,  as  it  wras  found  how  ineffec 
tual  was  the  aim.  The  cordon  was  contracting  around  the 
brave  defenders  of  the  fort;  and  the  arrival  of  Lee,  with 
his  legion,  from  the  siege  of  Augusta,  which  had  now 
surrendered,  enabled  Greene  to  direct  his  efforts  against 
the  stockade  fortress  also.  He  had  reason  to  urge  all 
his  efforts  to  shorten  the  duration  of  the  siege.  Des 
patches  from  Marion  had  brought  him  intelligence  of 
the  arrival,  in  Charleston,  of  three  British  regiments,  to 
the  support  of  Rawdon.  The  acquisition  of  this  force 
would  give  the  latter  the  immediate  and  complete  ascen 
dency  in  the  state,  and,  as  Greene  well  knew,  would  set 
him  instantly  in  motion  for  the  relief  of  the  beleaguered 
post.  To  press  his  leaguer  with  all  his  strength  and 
energy,  and  to  keep  the  garrison  from  any  knowledge 
of  the  increased  ability,  or  of  the  efforts,  of  Rawdon  to 
relieve  them,  were  the  immediate  objects  of  the  Ameri 
can  general.  To.  secure  the  latter  object,  Colonel  Wash 
ington,  who  had  now  rejoined  the  army  with  his  cavah-y, 
and  the  cavalry  of  Lee's  legion  under  Major  Rudolph, 
were  ordered  to  reinforce  Sumter,  who  was  instructed 
to  form  a  junction  with  Marion  —  the  whole  force,  tbu« 


THE    GARRISON    STRAITENED.  230 

united,  to  hang  upon  the  enemy's  march,  retard  his 
movements  by  every  possible  means,  and  completely 
cover  the  country  over  which  tidings  of  his  approach 
could  be  transmitted.  Assuming  the  reduction  of 
Ninety-Six  as  a  matter  certain,  could  the  necessary 
delay  be  secured,  Greene's  determination  was,  after  that 
event,  taking  with  him  the  Georgia  and  South-Carolina 
militia,  to  join  his  forces  with  those  of  Sumter  and 
Marion,  and  give  Rawdon  battle  on  the  march.  But  the 
reduction  of  Ninety-Six  was  the  first  object. 

The  siege  of  the  star  was  urged  with  the  desperate 
energy  of  those  who  knew  how  much  depended  on  the 
event.  Lee,  meanwhile,  made  regular  and  rapid  ap 
proaches  to  the  stockade.  He,  too,  had  to  encounter 
numerous  and  spirited  sallies  of  the  besieged;  —  but  his 
advance  was  equally  swift  and  steady;  and  very  soon, 
between  his  fire  and  that  of  the  third  parallel,  the  enemy 
could  no  longer  venture  to  the  rivulet  for  water  in  the 
light  of  day.  Naked  negroes  were  now  employed,  by 
night,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  in  the  necessary  sup 
plies  to  the  garrison  of  both  places ;  and  those  who 
know  the  singular  consideration  of  self  which  marks  this 
class  of  people,  may  easily  imagine  how  limited  must 
have  been  the  supply  thus  furnished  to  the  garrison. 
To  increase  their  disquiets  and  discomforts,  an  attempt 
was  made,  such  as  had  been  employed  by  Marion  at 
Fort  Motte,  to  set  fire  to  the  buildings  within  the  fort  by 
means  of  burning  arrows.  But  Cruger  instantly  un 
roofed  his  houses,  and  thus  escaped  all  farther  peril  from 
this  source  of  annoyance.  An  attempt  of  Lee  to  de 
stroy  the  abatis  of  the  stockade  by  fire,  in  open  daylight 
was  similarly  unsuccessful,  and  resulted  in  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  whole  party  engaged  in  the  attempt.  But 
these  disappointments  did  not  discourage  the  besiegers 
The  fate  of  the  brave  garrison  secured  to  be  a  thinp 


240  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

written.  It  was  evident  that  the  defence  could  not  much 
longer  be  maintained.  Their  works  were  all  overawed 

O 

by  the  superior  fire  of  the  besiegers,  whose  wooden 
towers  approached  within  thirty  yards  of  the  ditch,  from 
which  the  riflemen  swept  everything  human  that  rose 
within  vision  above  the  ramparts.  A  battery,  twenty 
feet  high,  for  cannon,  within  a  hundred  and  forty  yards, 
so  entirely  commanded  the  star  redoubt,  that  it  became 
necessary  to  give  its  parapet,  already  twelve  feet  high, 
three  feet  more  of  elevation  ;  which  was  done  by  means 
of  sandbags,  small  intervals  between  which  were  left  for 
the  use  of  small  arms.  The  withdrawal  of  the  bags  by 
night,  left  embrazures  for  the  cannon,  which  could  thus 
be  pointed  capriciously,  without  suffering  the  assailants 
to  conjecture  in  what  quarter  they  would  next  appear. 

Thus,  with  a  stubbornness  and  perseverance,  on  both 
sides,  which  amply  testified  the  common  origin  of  the 
several  combatants,  they  lay  watching  each  other.  The 
pressing  energy  of  the  one,  was  nobly  met  by  the 
unflinching  constancy  of  the  other.  For  eighteen  days 
had  the  conflict  continued :  and,  at  this  moment,  not  a 
man  could  show  his  head  on  either  side  without  draw 
ing  the  fire  of  his  enemy.  It  was  seldom  that  the  bullet 
was  sped  in  vain.  Much  blood  had  been  already  shed. 
Many  were  the  gallant  deeds  performed  on  both  sides  — 
on  that  of  the  garrison,  apparently,  in  vain.  Sanguine 
of  the  result,  now  apparently  at  hand,  the  soldiers  of 
Greene  looked  forward  to  a  grateful  termination  of  their 
toils  in  the  surrender  of  the  fortress.  A  corresponding 
gloom,  which  was  only  not  despair,  had  fastened  upon 
the  hearts  of  their  opponents.  Their  resources  were 
diminishing,  their  strength  momently  lessening,  their 
hope  exhausted.  They  knew  nothing  of  the  reinforce 
ments  received  by  Rawdon  —  knew  nothing  of  his 
approach  for  their  relief.  Their  minds  were  prepared 


RAWDON  APPROACHES  TO   RELIEVE  THE  GARRISON.  241 

for  the  catastrophe  which  seemed  inevitable ;  when,  at 
the  moment  of  their  greatest  despondency,  they  received 
tidings  of  succor,  and  were  invigorated  to  new  efforts  in 
the  contest.  The  facts  were  these  ;  —  they  mingle  a  little 
romance  with  the  cull  details  of  ordinary  matters. — 

There  was  a  young  lady,  the  daughter  and  sister  of 
tried  and  honored  patriots,  who  resided  at  a  place  not 
far  distant  from  the  American  camp.  Unsuspected,  she 
visited  the  camp,  with  a  flag,  on  some  pretence  of  little 
moment.  She  was  received  with  civility,  and  dined  at 
the  table  of  the  general.  It  was  not  known  that  she 
was  the  betrothed  of  a  British  officer  then  in  the  garri 
son.  Subsequently,  however,  it  was  discovered  that  she 
had  remained  for  a  day  or  two  at  a  neighboring  farm 
house.  In  this  period,  a  young  loyalist,  well  mounted, 
dashed  through  the  American  line  of  pickets,  and,  by 
the  rapidity  of  his  flight,  baffled  the  sudden  fire  which 
he  drew  from  the  sentinels.  His  audacity,  and  the  nar 
row  escape  which  he  ran,  were  a  sufficient  passport  for 
his  admission  to  the  garrison.  He  brought  the  tidings, 
in  a  verbal  message  from  Lord  Rawdon,  which  gave 
new  life  to  the  garrison.  His  news  was  too  grateful  to 
be  questioned.  Their  huzzas,  and  an  animated  feu  de 
joic,  announced  his  mission  to  the  besiegers,  and  indi 
cated  the  newborn  resolution  which  now  defied  their 
utmost  efforts. 

It  now  became  necessary  that  the  place  should  be 
carried  by  storm.  With  Rawdon  approaching,  and  the 
garrison  in  possession  of  the  fact,  there  was  no  chance 
of  a  more  pacific  termination  of  the  siege.  Accord 
ingly,  the  resolution  having  been  taken,  the  several  de 
tachments  of  the  besiegers  were  ready  by  twelve,  on 
the  morning  of  the  18th  of  June,  to  attempt  the  assault; 
— hot  work  for  hot  weather.  Lee  was  to  command  in 
the  assault  upon  the  stockade.  His  forlorn  hope  was 
11 


242  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENK. 

led  by  Rudolph,  supported  by  the  infantry  of  the  legion, 
and  the  remains  of  the  gallant  Delawares  under  Kirk- 
wood.  The  forlorn  hope  against  the  star  redoubt  was 
led  by  Lieutenants  Duval  and  Seldon,  —  the  one  with  a 
command  of  Marylanders,  and  the  other  of  Virginians. 
They  were  followed  by  Colonel  Campbell  at  the  head 
of  the  first  Maryland  and  first  Virginia  regiments,  by 
whom  the  assault  was  to  be  made.  The  American 
forts,  the  rifle-towers,  and  the  advanced  wrorks,  were  all 
manned,  with  orders  to  sweep  and  clear  the  enemy's 
parapet  during  the  advance  of  the  storming  party.  Par 
ties  bearing  fascines  to  fill  the  ditches,  others  armed  with 
long  poles  barbed  with  hooks  of  iron  to  pull  down  the 
sandbags,  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  the  forlorn  hopes, 
the  tasks  of  which,  particularly  in  the  attempt  on  the 
star  redoubt,  were  sufficiently  perilous.  They  were  to 
advance,  under  the  numerous  crossfires  of  its  angles,  to 
clear  the  abatis,  and,  driving  off  the  defenders,  occupy 
the  curtain  opposite  them,  while  the  hookmen  drew  the 
sandbags  from  the  walls.  This  service  done,  Campbell, 
with  his  two  regiments,  was  to  gain  the  summit  and 
finish  the  work. 

The  American  works  were  manned,  accordingly,  with 
riflemen  prepared  to  sweep  the  enemy's  parapets.  Pre 
cisely  at  noon,  the  signal  for  the  assault  was  given. 
Then  followed  a  blaze  of  fire  from  artillery  and  small 
arms,  from  right  to  left,  all  concentrating  on  the  centre 
of  attack.  Under  this  cloud  of  fire  and  storm,  the  assail 
ing  parties  rushed  to  the  assault.  No  effort  could  have 
been  more  nobly  impulsive,  or  more  resolutely  main 
tained.  In  an  instant,  this  gallant  little  band  had  crossed 
the  ditch  and  commenced  the  work  of  destroying  the 
abatis.  They  were  encountered  by  a  terrible  fire  from 
within  the  works,  the  severity  of  which  naturally  in 
creased  with  the  increased  destruction  of  the  abatis. 


ATTEMPT    TO    STORM    THE    REDOUBT.  2-13 

From  every  "crevice  in  the  sandbags,  the  rifle  poured 
forth  its  deadly  missile  —  a  constant  stream,  to  which 
the  assailants  could  oppose  nothing  but  unflinching  ob 
stinacy  in  the  prosecution  of  their  tasks.  It  was  in  vain 
that  they  opposed  their  constancy  to  this  destructive  fire. 
Pikes  and  bayonets  bristled  above  them,  defying  their 
approach,  and  mocking  their  endeavors.  Between  two 
angles  of  the  redoubt,  the  discharges  of  both  swept  their 
columns  with  unsparing  rage.  Their  bravest  were  the 
first  to  fall.  The  gallant  Captain  Armstrong,  of  the  1st 
Marylanders,  was  struck  down,  among  the  first,  at  the 
head  of  his  company.  Duval  and  Seldon  were  both 
severely  wounded.  But  they  pressed  forward,  encour 
aging  their  commands,  till  the  curtain  was  won,  and  the 
hookmen,  promptly  following  while  the  other  fought, 
strove  to  pull  down  the  sandbags  from  their  elevations. 
The  attainment  of  this  object  might  have  secured  the 
victory ;  but  they  had  greatly  miscalculated  the  depth 
of  the  ditch  and  the  height  of  the  parapet.  The  sand 
bags  were  above  their  reach,  and  their  toils  were  taken 
in  vain. 

This  was  a  melancholy  misfortune.  Greene  saw  with 
anguish  the  fruitlessness  of  the  struggle.  The  prey  was 
about  to  escape  his  grasp.  The  fight  had  continued  for 
nearly  an  hour,  and  but  little  had  been  achieved.  The 
stockade  had  been  won,  with  little  risk,  by  Lee's  party, 
led  by  Rudolph  ;  the  enemy  having  concentrated  them 
selves,  for  the  final  struggle,  in  the  star.  But  this  ad 
vantage  was  of  little  moment.  No  impression  had  been 
made  on  the  formidable  redoubt,  which  had  been  the 
main  object  of  the  enterprise.  The  greater  part  of  the 
assailing  party  had  fallen,  either  slain  or  wounded,  in  the 
ditch.  It  was  possible  that  success  might  attend  a  con 
tinuance  of  the  conflict.  Lee  was  prepared  to  sustain 
the  movement  on  the  right.  The  assailing  party  had 


244  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

been,  comparatively,  a  small  one,  and  repeated  efforts, 
with  larger  parties,  might  result  more  fortunately.  But, 
with  Rawdon  approaching  with  a  fresh  army,  Greene 
dared  not  wait  the  doubtful  issues  of  the  conflict. 
Even  if  successful  in  the  storm,  yet  what  could  be  his 
hope  against  the  now  full  regiments  of  the  British,  with 
a  greatly  crippled  army.  Reluctantly,  he  gave  the  order 
to  retire.  Lee  was  recalled  ;  Campbell  commanded  to 
desist;  and  the  survivors  in  the  strife,  bringing  back 
with  them  the  greater  number  of  their  wounded  com 
rades,  escaped  in  the  face  of  a  galling  fire,  which  the 
garrison  delivered  as  thev  retired. 


SPIRITS    OF    THE    TROOPS.  245 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Greene  retreats  from  Ninety-Six. — Is  pursued  by  Rawdon. — The  latter 
evacuates  Ninety-Six,  and  retires  toward  the  Seaboard. — Greene  turns 
upon  and  pursues  him.— Various  Movements  of  the  Armies. — Rawdon 
at  Orangeburg. —  Greene  offers  him  Battle.— He  declines  it. — la 
strengthened  by  Cruger,  and  Greene  retires  and  encamps  among  the 
High  Hills  of  Santee. 

THE  cup  of  triumph  was  once  more  plucked  from  the 
lips  of  the  Americans,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  pre 
cious  draught  seemed  to  be  secure.  Greene  was  not 
much  the  favorite  of  fortune.  What  he  achieved  seemed 
to  be  in  her  despite.  The  siege  of  Ninety-Six  had  lasted 
twenty-eight  days.  In  its  progress  he  had  lost  nearly 
two  hundred  men  killed  and  wounded ;  but,  even  with 
this  disappointment  of  his  object,  and  this  diminution  of 
his  force,  he  found  some  reasons  for  hope  and  consola 
tion.  The  constancy  and  spirit  which  his  troops  had 
shown,  were  full  of  the  happiest  auguries.  They  were 
beginning  to  reap,  obviously,  all  the  advantages  which 
qualify  the  mortification  of  defeat,  and  prepare  for  a 
grateful  change  of  fortune.  There  was  no  longer  dan 
ger  that  they  would  again  suffer  from  such  a  panic  as 
lost  them  the  field  of  Hobkirk,  and  Greene  had  not  so 
much  to  regret  in  his  failure  before  Ninety-Six  except  the 
loss  of  so  many  admirable  soldiers.  "With  adequate  num 
bers,  trained  like  these,  he  should  no  longer  shrink  from 
i  pitched  battle  with  his  enemy.  In  his  despatches  to 
Congress,  he  expresses  this  confidence  and  satisfaction. 
:<  The  behavior  of  the  troops  on  this  occasion  deserves 
the  highest  commendation.  .  .  They  have  undergone  in« 


246  LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

credible  hardships  during  the  siege.  .  .  Had  the  Virginia 
militia  joined  us,  agreeably  to  orders,  success  would  have 
been  complete."  He  did  not  withdraw  from  the  leaguer 
too  precipitately.  Rawdon's  army  was  almost  within 
striking  distance.  He  was  but  a  few  miles  off  when  the 
last  struggle  was  made,  and  the  storming  party  was  rush 
ing  to  the  breach.  The  force  of  Rawdon  was  more  than 
two  thousand  men  ;  too  large  a  force  for  the  detachments 
under  Sumter  and  Marion  to  oppose.  He  was  also  strong 
in  cavalry.  They  could  only  hang  upon  his  flanks  ;  and 
even  in  the  performance  of  this  duty,  an  unfortunate 
facility  of  route,  which  enabled  Rawdon  to  choose  at 
pleasure,  and  almost  at  any  moment,  required  that  the 
forces  of  the  partisans  should  be  so  scattered  as,  if  pos 
sible,  to  keep  a  watch  on  all.  The  same  circumstance 
prevented  Sumter  from  calling  in  his  detachments,  and 
pressing  for  Ninety-Six  in  season  to  enable  Greene,  thus 
strengthened,  to  advance  and  choose  the  proper  ground 
for  an  advantageous  meeting  with  his  lordship.  For  this 
Greene  was  anxious.  He  writes  with  great  earnestness  on 
this  subject  to  all  the  partisans.  "  It  is  my  wish  to  meet 
him,"  is  the  language  of  one  of  these  letters,  "  and  I 
doubt  not  of  victory  if  the  virtuous  militia  collect  and 
fight  with  their  usual  gallantry.  Come  on,  then,  my  good 
friend,  and  bring  Lieutenant-Colonel  Jackson  with  you, 
and  all  the  good  troops  you  have  collected.  Let  us  have 
a  field-day,  and  I  doubt  not  it  will  be  a  glorious  one.  No 
time  is  to  be  lost.  —  be  here  to-morrow  evenin^  at  far- 

O 

thest."  This  was  written  on  the  17th.  It  was  on  the 
18th  that  the  attempt  was  made  to  storm  the  post  at 
Ninety-Six.  But  the  virtuous  militia  did  not  arrive  in 
season,  and  the  approach  of  Rawdon  rendered  the  at 
tempt  to  storm,  and  the  subsequent  retreat,  indispensa 
ble.  Greene,  therefore,  on  the  19th,  moved  off,  on  the 
track  of  his  baggage,  previously  sent,  across  the  Saluda. 


GREENE    RETREATS    FROM    NINETY-SIX.  247 

This  retrograde  movement,  as  usual,  affected  the  enthu 
siasm  of  the  militia.  Of  four  regiments  of  volunteers, 
under  Sumter,  every  man  left  him  in  a  single  day. 
Marion  was  only  less  unfortunate.  The  fluctuations  of 
the  spirits  of  an  army  can  only  be  counteracted  by  the 
imperative  necessity  of  the  service  ;  by  the  conviction 
on  the  part  of  the  soldiers,  that,  through  good  or  ill 
fortune,  they  have  no  refuge  but  in  camp.  The  lessons 
of  the  revolutionary  war  were  incessant,  and  of  the 
most  impressive  character,  which  taught  the  absurdity  of 
any  other  process  for  raising  troops  among  the  militia,  than 
that  which  binds  them  to  the  business  for  the  whole  war. 
Greene's  retreat,  once  begun,  was  pressed  with  little 
intermission  for  twenty-two  miles.  It  was  well  that  he 
could  retreat.  He  had  shown  his  troops  that  sucli  a  ne 
cessity ,  implies  feebleness  but  not  discredit,  and  some 
times,  indeed,  supplies  what  is  equal  to  a  victory.  At 
all  events,  his  soldiers  had  learned  to  endure,  without  too 
great  a  degree  of  humiliation,  this  usually  humiliating 
necessity.  Had  Greene  been  a  more  rash  and  impulsive 
man,  he  might  have  recoiled,  at  the  risk  of  their  safety 
and  his  own  reputation,  at  the  inevitable  misfortune;  and 
by  giving  way  to  his  pride  against  his  judgment,  have 
forfeited  the  stakes  he  played  for.  But,  in  truth,  retreat 
did  not  imply,  in  his  case,  the  disappointment  of  his  ob 
jects.  He  wa.s  simply  driven,  for  the  moment,  from  his 
prey,  which,  events  had  shown,  was  destined  to  fall  into 
his  hands  at  last.  Thus  had  he  been  hunted  and  pursued 
by  Cornwallis,  yet  the  latter  had  been  exhausted  by  the 
vary  advantages  he  had  won,  while  the  American  gen 
eral,  soon  recovering,  was  pressing  forward  to  a  renewal 
of  his  efforts.  To  Cornwallis,  Rawdon  had  succeeded  ; 
and  Greene  was  twice  —  soon  to  be  thrice  —  driven 
before  him.  Yet,  all  the  while,  the  strongholds  of  the 
British  were  falling  into  the  hands  of  his  detachments, 


JM8  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL     GREENE. 

and  he  was  ready,  the  moment  that  his  pursuer  had  given 
up  the  chase,  to  turn  upon  his  footsteps  and  renew  his 
enterprises.    These  characteristics  of  the  warfare  he  pur 
sued,  well  understood  among  his  followers,  had  now  ta 
ken  the   sting  from  partial  defeat,  and  the  humiliation 
from  flight.     Retreat  was  only  a  part  of  the  game,  and 
not  an  unforeseen  disaster.     It  was,  in  other  words,  that 
process  of  muscular  contraction  which  is  necessary  to  a 
becoming  future  exercise  of  strength  ;  such  a  contrac 
tion  as   the  individual  makes,  when,  seeking  to   spring 
far,  he  crouches    low.      Cheerfully  then,  and  in    good 
spirits,  strengthened  by  their  past  experience,  the  troops 
of  Greene  rnade  their  way  over  Bush  river,  and,  with  the 
tidings  of  Rawdon's  advance,  sped  on  yet  farther  across 
the  rivers  Enoree,  Tyger,  and  Broad,  halting,  on  the  25th, 
at  a  place  called  Tim's  Ordinary,  about  half  way  between 
the  Broad  and  the  Catawba  rivers.    Rawdon  pushed  for 
ward  to  the  Enoree,  but  found  the  pursuit  to  be  equally 
impolitic  and  vain.     Greene  had  swept  the  country  in 
his  progress,  and   was  in  due  route  to   his  magazines 
on  the  Catawba.     Rawdon,  moving  from  his  own,  felt 
momently  the  increasing  want  of  supplies,  his  foragers 
not  daring  to  venture  far  in  the  face  of  two  strong  de 
tachments  of  cavalry  and  light-infantry,  under  "Washing 
ton  and  Lee,  accompanied  by  Greene  himself,  that  sul 
lenly  preceded  the  pursuit.  The  army  of  the  Americans., 
meanwhile,  continued  its  march  under  Colonel  Williams. 
Greene  had  gained  another  of  his  victories  when  Raw 
don  abandoned  the  pursuit.     He  had  the  fate  of  Corn- 
wallis  before  him,  whose  pursuit  of  Greene,  continued 
into  three  states,  had,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  begun 
at  the  very  spot  where  his  successor  deemed  it  wiser  to 
forbear.     It  might  be  that  Rawdon  was  less  influenced 
by  this  ominous  coincidence  than  we  have  reason  to  sup 
pose.     Other  considerations  may  have  governed  him  in 


BRITISH    ABANDON    NINETY-SIX.  249 

abandoning  the  chase.  His  troops  were  fresh  from  Eu 
rope,  had  marched  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
in  less  than  twelve  days,  and,  clad  in  thick  garments, 
were  far  less  able  to  withstand  the  melting  heats  of  the 
climate  in  midsummer,  than  the  Americans,  who  were 
little  burdened  with  any  clothing.  His  return  to  Nine 
ty-Six  icvealed  still  farther  the  difficulties  of  his  govern 
ment.  That  place  was  to  be  abandoned  also.  Remote 
from  the  seaboard,  it  could  no  longer  be  maintained. 
The  toils  were  closing  momently  around  the  invader,  and 
he  was  compelled,  however  reluctantly,  to  draw  in  all 
the  troops  from  his  outposts,  —  to  contract  his  antennae. 

This  necessity,  if  humbling  to  the  British,  was  pregnant 
with  still  worse  conditions  to  their  tory  allies.  Ninety-Six 
had  been  the  very  centre  of  their  wantonness  and  power. 
Here,  encouraged  by  the  foreign  emissary,  they  had  run 
full  riot  over  the  whig  inhabitants.  In  the  simple  con 
sciousness  of  strength,  they  had  indulged  it  in  excess, 
and  the  surrounding  country  had  been  ravaged  by  their 
gross  and  terrible  barbarities.  When,  therefore,  sum 
moning  their  chiefs  around  him,  Rawdon  declared  the 
necessity  of  withdrawing  the  British  garrison  from  the 
post,  a  terror  which  they  had  never  felt  before  seized 
upon  their  apprehensions.  This  was  to  abandon  them 
to  the  just  vengeance  of  their  enemies.  The  day  of 
retribution  was  come.  They  felt  what  was  due  to  their 
atrocities,  and  shrunk  from  the  tender  mercies  of  the 
avenger.  There  was  but  one  alternative  before  them, 
and  that  they  adopted.  This  was  to  abandon  the  coun 
try  and  to  follow  that  foreign  power  to  which,  and  their 
own  passions,  they  had  sold  themselves,  and  which  alone 
could  give  them  protection.  Melancholy  was  the  specta 
cle  that  followed.  Trooping  slowly  and  gloomily  in  the 
van  and  rear  of  the  British  army,  went  the  families  of 
this  unhappy  faction.  For  days  the  roads  froip  Ninety-Six 


250  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

were  crowded  with  a  wretched  cavalcade,  men,  women 
children,  and  slaves,  with  cattle  and  wagons,  seeking 
the  protection  of  the  British  army  on  its  way  to  the  sea 
board.  They  were  leaving  their  homesteads  at  the  most 
endearing  season.  The  whole  country  was  looking  most 
beautiful  in  the  vigorous  warmth  of  the  maturing  sum 
mer.  Their  fields,  paved  in  green  and  gold,  with  the 
growing  harvests,  and  fruits  and  flowers  on  every  hand, 
imploring  them  to  stay,  compelled  tears  from  eyes  that 
had  not  often  shown  pity  to  their  fellow-creatures.  Con 
scious  of  their  own  brutal  rage  and  the  hardness  of  heart 
with  which,  in  the  season  of  their  prosperity  and  power, 
they  had  regarded  their  unhappy  brethren  among  the 
whigs,  they  could  hope  for  no  mercy  from  them  in  the 
day  which  found  the  position  of  the  parties  reversed. 
They  did  not  dare  to  make  the  experiment  upon  sympa 
thies  which  they  had  so  commonly  joyed  to  outrage ; 
and,  followed  by  keen  eyes  of  vengeance,  as  they  clung 
to  the  shelter  of  the  British,  on  their  downward  march, 
they  made  their  way,  a  melancholy  and  doomed  commu 
nity,  to  the  neighborhood  of  Charleston,  where  a  misera 
ble  hamlet,  called  Rawdontown,  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
city,  gave  them  temporary  shelter  ;  but  where  pestilence, 
and  the  diseases  of  an  unfriendly  climate,  soon  thinned 
their  numbers,  leaving  but  few  to  burden  the  retiring 
vessels  of  the  enemy  when  they  finally  left  the  country. 
Such  as  remained  in  the  interior  suffered  more  summa 
rily,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  from  a  seveier  fate.  The  re 
turning  whigs,  desperate  from  ruined  circumstances,  and 
protracted  injuries,  pursued  their  vengeance  with  a  sleep 
less  appetite  wherever  they  could  find  a  victim.  The 
country  was  depopulated,  and  in  spite  of  the  strenuous 
efforts  of  Greene  to  meliorate  the  sufferings  of  the  peo< 
pie,  or  rather,  their  rage,  he  was  but  too  frequently  com- 
pellecj  to  hear  of  cruelties  which  shocked  humanity,  an<? 


<;HEEXE  TURNS  UPON  RAWDON.  251 

of  bloody  revenges  for  past  crimes,  over  which  humanity 
could  only  weep.  The  time  that  he  could  spare  from 
the  enemy,  was  devoted  to  the  most  earnest  endeavors 
to  soothe  the  passions  and  disarm  the  fury  of  the  people  ; 
but  his  toils  were  only  in  part  successful.  It  is  estima 
ted  that  the  civil  war  in  Ninety-Six  District  alone  left 
fifteen  hundred  widows  to  deplore  its  horrors. 

In  retracing  his  steps  toward  the  seaboard,  and  with 
drawing  the  forces  from  Ninety-Six,  Lord  Rawdon  di 
vided  his  army  into  two  nearly  equal  bodies.  One  of 
these  bodies,  under  Cruger,  was  employed  to  cover  the 
departure  of  the  Loyalists  ;  while  the  other,  consisting  of 
eleven  hundred  infantry,  sixty  cavalry,  and  two  compa 
nies  of  artillery,  under  his  own  command,  took  up  the 
line  of  march,  on  the  29th  of  June,  for  Orangeburg,  at 
which  place  he  had  instructed  Colonel  Stuart,  with  a 
strong  detachment,  to  meet  him.  The  signal  for  his  de 
parture  was  that  of  the  return  of  Greene  upon  his  track. 
He  had  already  anticipated  the  necessity  for  the  retreat 
of  Rawdon,  and  provided  against  it.  Lee,  with  his 
legion,  was  ordered  to  hover  about  the  post  of  Ninety- 
Six,  and  to  strike  whenever  ~  an  opportunity  offered. 
Washington,  with  his  cavalry  and  the  infantry  of  Kirk- 
wood,  was  to  keep  near  the  enemy  at  Orangeburg,  with 
a  similar  purpose.  Sumter  was  instructed  to  descend  the 
country,  and  to  co-operate  with  Marion  in  pursuit  of  the 
common  object ;  while  Greene,  himself,  with  the  main 
army,  taking  the  route  toward  Granby,  was  to  determine 
his  own  by  the  movements  of  the  enemy.  The  progress 
of  the  latter  seemed  to  indicate  a  design  upon  the  posts 
which  the  Americans  had  recently  reconquered;  and  the 
apprehensions  of  Greene  were  still  lively  lest  Rawdon 
should  organize  garrisons  along  the  route  from  Ninety- 
Six,  out  of  the  bands  of  loyalists  about  him,  with  which 
his  foreign  reinforcements  enabled  Inni  to  dispense  fot 


LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

the  present.  Greene's  object,  in  this  pursuit,  and  in  th« 
employment  of  his  light  troops,  was  to  prevent  any  such 
design  from  being  put  into  execution,  and,  gradually,  to 
compel  his  adversary  to  retire  once  more  within  that 
range  of  inferior  posts  with  which  he  had  environed 
himself  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  sea.  This  was  his 
dosire  and  design  —  a  design  to  be  put  in  execution  only 
when  his  recruits  should  sufficiently  increase  the  strength 
of  his  army.  This  was  still  greatly  inferior  to  that  of 
Rawdon,  but  improving  daily  under  the  active  agency 
of  Marion  and  Sumter.  The  militia  were  once  more 
gathering  about  their  favorite  leaders,  under  the  encour 
aging  effect  produced  by  the  retrograde  movement  of 
Rawdon;  and  a  small  detachment  of  continentals,  and 
some  two  hundred  and  fifty  North  Carolina  levies,  under 
Major  Armstrong,  presented  themselves  at  camp  at  a 
moment  when  it  most  needed  favoring  auguries.  But 
the  season  was  unfavorable  to  enterprise.  The  heat 
was  excessive ;  and  Greene  found  it  necessary  to  give 
his  army  a  couple  of  clays  of  rest.  Meanwhile,  the  ob 
jects  of  the  British  commander  continued  doubtful,  and 
the  American  general  remained  in  a  state  of  the  mos£ 
anxious  suspense.  His  opinion  was,  that  Rawdon  medita 
ted  a  retreat ;  but  this  might  only  be  a  feint.  He  might 
really  desire  to  fall  within  his  new  line  of  posts  ;  but  it 
might  be  his  purpose  to  establish  himself  on  the  Conga- 
ree,  and  compass,  within  his  power,  the  country  between 
the  Edisto  to  the  west,  and  that  of  the  Congaree  and 
Santee  to  the  north  and  east.  Such,  really,  was  his  in 
tention  ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  first  of  July  that  his 
object  became  known  to  the  American  general.  A  let 
ter  of  Stuart,  which  Washington  had  intercepted,  advised 
Rawdon  of  his  march,  but  gave  him  to  understand  that 
he  could  not  reach  Granby,  whither  the  latter  had  sum 
moned  him,  by  the  time  specified  — namely,  t{ie  3d  o* 


LEE    CUTS    OFF    THE    BUITISII    HORSE.  255 

July.  Advised,  at  the  same  time,  by  Lee,  that  Rawdon, 
relying  on  this  junction  with  Stuart,  had  ventured  to 
divide  his  forces  equally  with  Cruger,  and  was  marching 
toward  Granby  in  the  fullest  confidence  that  the  meeting 
would  be  effected  at  the  designated  time,  suggested  to 
Greene  the  prospect  of  an  enterprise  for  which  he  im 
mediately  put  his  troops  in  motion.  If  he  could  succeed 
in  throwing  himself  between  Rawdon  and  his  detach 
ments,  he  might  destroy  him  in  detail.  Disembarrassing 
itself  of  everything  which  might  impede  the  march,  the 
army  was  put  under  the  command  of  General  Huger, 
with  orders  to  press  on  to  the  Congaree.  Greene,  him 
self,  with  a  small  escort  of  cavalry,  hurried  off  in  search 
of  Colonel  Washington,  and  in  order  that  he  might  ob 
serve  more  nearly  those  indications  by  which  his  ulterior 
measures  were  to  be  directed. 

The  forward  movement  of  the  American  army,  and 
possibly  the  nonarrival  of  any  courier  with  advices  from 
Stuart,  appears  to  have  awakened  the  apprehensions  of 
Rawdon.  He  now  urged  his  own  march  with  an  obvi 
ous  anxiety  to  reach  Granby  in  anticipation  of  the  Amer 
icans.  His  progress  was  attended  with  some  misfortunes, 
which  probably  increased  his  desire  to  hasten  forward. 
Lee's  cavalry,  by  which  his  retreating  footsteps  were 
harassed  and  haunted,  succeeded  in  cutting  off  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  British  horse,  taking  forty-five  of  them 
prisoners  when  within  but  a  mile  of  their  army.  This  event 
exaggerated  the  alarm  of  Rawdon,  and  his  speed  was 
increased  with  but  small  regard  to  the  health  and  com 
fort  of  his  troops,  more  than  fifty  of  whom  fell  dead  from 
heat  and  fatigue,  in  the  progress  from  Ninety-Six  tc 
Orangebnrg.  But  he  succeeded  in  his  object,  and 
reached  Granby  two  days  in  advance  of  that  which  he 
had  appointed  for  the  rendezvous  with  Stuart,  and,  con- 
•oquently,  before  Greene  was  ready  t<j  present  himself 


254  LIFE    OF    XATHAXAEL    GREENE. 

at  the  same  point  of  junction.  This  point  gained,  Ravr 
don  lingered  only  long  enough  to  destroy  the  boats  foi 
some  distance  along  the  river,  and  then,  chiefly  solicitous 
for  his  detachments,  pressed  forward  immediately  to 
Orangeburg,  where  he  took  up  a  strong  position,  await 
ing  the  arrival  of  Stuart  and  Cruger.  He  had  gained  a 
position  of  safety,  with  desperate  exertions  that  did  not 
scruple  at  great  sacrifice  of  life  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
purpose. 

Foiled  of  his  prey,  Greene  had  other  hopes  in  reserve. 
Apprized,  through  a  deserter,  of  a  large  supply  of  stores 
which  were  on  the  march  to  Orangeburg,  he  laid  a  plan 
for  securing  them.  These  stores  were  of  vital  impor 
tance  to  the  British,  and  their  loss  might  eventually  lead 
to  the  destruction  of  the  army.  They  were  a  tempting 
bait  to  the  Americans,  to  whom  they  were  almost  as  im 
portant.  But  the  well-concerted  measures  failed,  and 
the  next  object  was  to  attempt  the  detachment  under 
Stuart.  Greene,  at  the  head  of  the  corps  of  Marion  and 
Washington,  resolved  to  lead  this  enterprise  in  person. 
He  succeeded  in  passing  Lord  Rawdon  on  the  6th  of 
July,  and  Marion  placed  himself  in  waiting  for  his  prey. 
But  the  good  fortune  of  the  British  general  had  not 
deserted  him.  Sallying  out,  at  one  o'clock,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  8th,  expecting  to  take  his  prey,  Marion,  to  his 
utter  discomfiture,  found  that  Stuart  had  passed  him  in 
the  night.  Unconscious  of  his  danger,  and  influenced 
only  by  a  choice  of  roads,  the  British  colonel  had  turned 
aside  into  one,  while  his  enemy  was  seeking  for  him  in 
another.  The  miserable  deficiency  of  force,  thus  fre 
quently  prevented  the  Americans  from  realizing  the 
best-laid  plans  of  enterprise.  On  the  day  of  the  junction 
of  Stuart  with  Rawdon,  a  letter  from  Marion  shows 
how  little  the  British  army  was  in  a  condition  to  fight  or 
fly.  He  wjires  :  "  Their  troops  are  so  fatigued  that  they 


CKEEiVE    OFFERS    RAWDON    BATTLE.  255 

can  not  possibly  move.  Three  regiments  were  going  to 
lay  down  their  arms,  and  it  is  believed  they  will  to-day, 
if  they  are  ordered  to  march.  They  have  no  idea  of  any 
force  being  near  them." 

Greene  was  anxious,  but  in  no  condition,  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  this  disorganization  in  the  ranks  of  the  enemy, 
Rawdon  soon  recruited  his  troops  by  repose,  and  his 
position  was  too  strongly  sheltered  to  be  attempted  by 
the  troops  of  the  American  general.  "With  the  defeat 
of  the  attempt  upon  Stuart,  he  had  retraced  his  steps  to 
the  army,  and  calling  in  his  detachments  on  the  Conga- 
ree,  and  finding  himself  in  unusual  strength,  with  fully 
two  thousand  troops,  including  the  men  of  Marion  and 
Sumter,  he  prepared  to  march  down  and  offer  battle  to 
his  enemy.  The  advantage  of  numbers  was  with  Greene. 
The  force  of  Rawdon,  with  that  of  Stuart,  did  not  ex 
ceed  fifteen  hundred  ;  but  they  were  all  disciplined 
troops,  and  well  equipped  and  supplied  with  necessaries. 
Of  the  American  army,  but  eight  hundred  were  regulars. 
The  cavalry  of  the  latter  was,  however,  much  the  best, 
that  of  the  British  being  exceedingly  feeble  in  numbers, 
and  deficient  in  that  confidence  in  itself  which  alone  in 
sures  the  usefulness  of  this  important  arm  of  battle. 

It  was  highly  important  that  Greene,  if  he  hoped  to 
engage  the  enemy,  should  do  so  before  the  junction  with 
Cruger  should  be  effected.  In  that  case,  his  strength 
would  so  greatly  preponderate  as  to  leave  the  contest 
hopeless.  Cruger  wras  on  his  march,  and  rapidly  ap 
proaching  Orangeburg,  only  watched  by  the  militia 
under  Pickens  —  a  force  neither  sufficiently  strong  nor 
sufficiently  practised  to  retard  the  advance  of  the  British 
detachment,  consisting  of  twelve  or  fourteen  hundred 
men.  To  anticipate  his  coming,  Greene  appeared 
within  four  miles  of  Orangeburg,  and  offered  Rawdon 
battle.  The  latter  took  no  notice  of  the  demonstration, 


256  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

and  the  certainty  of  Cruger's  approach  compelled 
Greene  to  move  up  with  the  hope  of  forcing  his  adver 
sary  to  the  deadly  issue.  But  a  careful  examination  of 
Rawdon's  position,  determined  him  against  the  measure, 
and,  very  reluctantly,  and  against  the  advice  of  many 
whom  he  was  disposed  to  respect,  he  withdrew  from  the 
field.  The  temptation  was  not  inconsiderable,  but  the 
risk  was  still  less  so.  He  dared  not  peril  unnecessarily 
a  cau-se  which  he  felt  that  patience  and  caution  must 
eventually  secure.  Accordingly,  withdrawing,  by  slow 
and  easy  marches,  he  retired  to  a  camp  of  repose  among 
the  high  hills  of  Santee,  a  beautiful  and  salubrious 
region,  where  he  gave  to  his  wearied  soldiers  the  rest 
and  respite  which  they  so  grievously  required.  Cruger, 
meanwhile,  reaching  Orangeburg,  so  strengthened  the 
command  of  Rawdon  as  to  leave  him  in  no  pres 
ent  danger  of  a  challenge  from  his  enemy.  The  for 
mer  had  not  descended  from  Ninety-Six  without 
leaving  his  mark  upon  the  country.  Left  at  Ninety-Six 
to  cover  the  flight  of  the  loyalist  families,  and  while 
awaiting  their  assembling,  he  despatched  a  swarm  of 
tories,  accompanied  by  a  small  regular  force,  into  what 
was  called  the  Long-Cane  settlement.  This  expedition 
ifforded  to  the  vindictive  loyalists  a  chance  of  striking  a 
last  blow  at  their  ancient  enemies.  Their  ravages  were 
of  a  kind  to  afford  a  sufficient  sanction  to  the  assertion 
that  orders  had  been  given  by  the  British  commander  to 
lay  the  country  waste  —  a  measure  of  wanton  barbarity 
which  had  no  justification  in  necessity.  They  swept  the 
country  with  sword  and  fire,  checked  only  by  the  timely 
arrival  of  Pickens  and  Clarke,  with  their  followers,  by 
whom  the  dastardly  marauders  were  once  more  driven 
to  seek  shelter  under  the  guns  of  their  British  allies. 
Pickens  could  only  watch,  and  follow,  and  threaten. 
His  force  was  too  small  to  retard  the  progress  of  in 


THE    ARMIES    RETIRE    INTO    CAMP.  25 

enemy  whose  aimless  barbarities  had  entirely  placed 
him  without  the  pale  of  humanity  and  mercy.  The 
junction  of  Cruger  with  Rawdon  would  have  soon 
brought  the  latter  out  from  his  place  of  security,  in 
search  of  Greene,  but  for  the  timely  retreat  whicn 
placed  the  Oonjyaree  between  the  rival  armies 


258  LIFE    OF    NAT1IANAEL     GREENE- 


CHAPTER   XVIIi. 

Incursion  of  the  Partisans  under  Sumter  into  the  Lower  Country. — Cap 
ture  of  Dorchester. — Alarm  in  Charleston. — Attempt  on  the  Post  at 
Biggins. — Abandoned  by  the  British. — Pursuit  of  Coates. — Affair  at 
duinby  Bridge.— Battle  at  Shubrick's. 

A  RETROSPECT  of  the  campaign  just  closed,  affords  us 
a  curious  illustration  of  the  caprices  and  fluctuations  of 
the  war.  "We  see  Cornwallis,  superior  in  strength  and 
eager  for  combat,  pursuing  the  American  general  from 
the  Catawba  river,  in  South  Carolina,  across  the  Dan, 
in  Virginia.  We  remark  that,  at  the  very  moment  of 
the  greatest  seeming  superiority  in  the  former,  he  wheels 
about  and  recedes  before  his  adversary.  We  see  that 
adversary,  conscious  of  inferiority,  yet  pressing  on  his 
heels ;  and  the  combat  which  follows,  while  giving  the 
victory  to  the  enemy,  secures  most  of  its  fruits  to  the 
defeated  Americans.  The  game  is  again  reversed,  and 
Cornwallis,  the  pursuer,  is  pursued,  and  finally  escapes 
to  Virginia.  Greene  resumes  his  plan  of  invading  South 
Carolina  and  recovering  its  territory  in  detail.  He 
crosses  weapons  with  Rawdon,  is  compelled  to  fly  be 
fore  him,  yet  grows  stronger  from  every  defeat,  seemingly 
like  the  ancient  wrestler,  to  receive  new  life  and  vigor 
at  every  fall  upon  his  native  earth.  His  adversary  pur 
sues,  until,  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  he  pauses  for  breath, 
only  to  find  his  enemy  upon  his  path  again.  In  the  mean 
while,  his  fortresses  are  taken  by  assault,  or  he  is  forced 
to  abandon  them.  Steadily  and  inflexibly  the  American 
pursues  his  object.  Retreat  forms  a  part  of  ms  system, 


THE    CAMP    OF    REPOSE.  259 

as  in  the  case  of  the  Parthian,  and  his  followers  are  en 
couraged  even  by  seeming  discomfiture,  as  it  usually 
results,  under  their  present  leader,  in  a  large  increase  of 
strength.  His  calculations  have  all  been  realized;  his 
schemes  have  been  successful ;  he  has  conquered  with 
out  loss  :  and,  when  baffled,  it  has  been  chiefly  still  at 
the  expense  of  the  enemy.  His  very  caution,  which  has 
sometimes  had  the  effect  of  lessening  the  brilliancy  of  his 
exploits,  has  economized  his  forces,  and  left  them  assured 
and  confident  of  the  wholesome  authority  which  they 
obey.  His  camp  of  rest  upon  the  hills  did  not  imply 
repose.  In  this  salubrious  region,  in  which  his  soldiers 
found  refuge  from  the  diseases  of  summer  and  the  cli 
mate,  not  a  moment  was  consumed  in  idleness.  The 
combatants  had  separated  for  a  season,  only  to  recruit 
the  strength  necessary  to  a  renewal  of  the  conflict.  The 
task  before  Greene  was  one  of  unremitting  watchfulness 
and  study.  His  troops  were  suffering  from  sickness  and 
exhaustion.  To  refresh  the  whole,  to  restore  the  sick, 
to  accumulate  clothes  and  provisions,  and  discipline  the 
inexperienced,  were  employments  of  the  camp  which 
employed  every  hour  of  his  time.  There  were  other 
cares  of  a  more  general  and  comprehensive  character. 
To  invite  the  co-operation  and  assistance  of  the  contigu 
ous  states,  by  earnest  and  frequent  entreaty  and  expos 
tulation —  to  suggest  and  indicate  their  measures  —  to 
establish  magazines  in  secure  and  convenient  places  — 
to  connect  his  several  points  of  communication  —  to 
secure  the  means  of  transportation  —  these  were  tasks 
which  kept  him  wakeful  through  the  weary  watches  of 
the  night. 

The  repose  of  the  regular  army  among  the  Santee  hills 
did  not  imply  the  inactivity  of  the  partisans.  It  was  one 
of  the  chief  uses  of  a  regular  army  in  South  Carolina, 
that  it  enabled  the  whig  militia  to  rise  into  activity.  As 


£60  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

the  presence  of  a  British  army,  in  force,  had  overawed 
the  whigs  and  encouraged  the  audacity  of  the  tories,  so 
the  army  of  Greene,  in  due  degree  with  its  ability  to 
restrain  and  watch  the  movements  of  the  British,  gave 
opportunity  to  the  friends  of  the  revolution  to  encounter 
their  ancient  enemies.  With  the  increase  of  popular  con 
fidence  in  the  prudence  and  soldiership  of  the  American 
general,  the  partisan  militia  gathered  to  their  favorite 
leaders.  These,  accustomed  to  the  climate,  familiar 
with  the  country,  and  mostly  mounted,  were  capable  of 
rendering  active  service  while  the  two  opposing  armies 
were  in  summer-quarters.  Accordingly,  the  moment 
that  Greene  crossed  the  Congaree,  on  his  march  to  his 
camp  of  repose,  he  organized  an  expedition  of  the  par 
tisans,  directing  their  operations  in  the  lower  country. 
The  command  of  this  expedition  was  given  to  Sumter. 
Under  him  were  such  chieftains  as  have  not  often  been 
gathered  under  a  single  leader.  Marion  and  Lee,  the 
Hampdens,  and  Colonels  Taylor,  Horry,  Maham,  Lacy, 
and  others,  gave  ample  assurances  that  the  work  in  hand 
would  most  probably  be  well  done.  The  command  con 
sisted  of  all  the  troops  of  the  state,  of  Lee's  legion, 
and  a  small  detachment  of  artillery  with  one  field-piece 
—  in  all  about  a  thousand  men.  Its  object  was  to  strike 
at  outposts,  inspirit  the  whigs,  and  divert  the  attention  of 
Rawdon  from  the  country  above,  by  provoking  his  fears 
for  the  security  of  that  below  him.  In  his  orders  to 
Sumter,  Greene  writes :  "  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost. 
Push  your  operations  night  and  day.  Keep  a  party  to 
watch  the  enemy's  motions  at  Orangeburg,  as  they  move 
down.  Should  they  move  in  any  other  direction,  I  will 
advise  you.  Keep  Colonel  Lee  and  General  Marion 
advised  of  all  matters  from  above,  and  tell  Colonel  Lee 
to  thunder  even  at  the  gates  of  Charleston,"  &c. 

Sumter's  detachments  were  soon  sweeping  down  by 


MOVEMENTS    OP    THE    PARTISANS.  261 

every  road  that  led  to  Charleston.  He,  himself,  wita  the 
main  body  of  his  force,  pursued  the  Congaree,  on  the 
south  side  of  that  river,  then  the  east  side  of  the  Cooper. 
The  incursion,  thus  begun,  was  full  of  the  happiest  re 
sults.  For  a  while  it  prostrated  every  appearance  of 
royal  power  almost  to  the  gates  of  the  metropolis,  and 
di?Dve  the  enemy  from  all  quarters  to  seek  shelter  within 
its  walls.  Lee  made  his  appearance  at  a  fortunate  mo 
ment  before  the  post  at  Dorchester.  It  was  a  field  ripe 
for  the  sickle.  The  garrison  had  been  greatly  reduced 
by  the  draught  made  on  it  by  Stuart,  and  a  bloody  mutiny 
among  the  residue,  which  was  only  quelled  by  the  massa 
cre  of  more  than  a  hundred  men,  almost  entirely  deprived 
the  place  of  all  power  of  resistance.  At  the  approach, 
of  Lee  it  was  hastily  abandoned,  the  garrison  making 
their  escape  to  Charleston.  The  Americans  succeeded 
in  seizing  a  valuable  spoil,  consisting  of  a  couple  of  hun 
dred  horses,  and  some  wagons  of  fixed  ammunition.  This 
done,  Lee,  in  connexion  with  Colonel  Wade  Hampton, 
passing  on  to  the  east  of  Dorchester  by  the  Wassama- 
saw,  to  Goose  creek  bridge,  cut  off  the  communication 
between  Dorchester  and  Monk's  corner,  and  between 
the  latter  place  and  Charleston,  by  the  route  west  of 
Cooper  river.  A  detachment  of  Marion's  men,  under 
Colonel  Maham,  passing  the  head  of  Cooper  river  and 
Watboo  creek,  penetrated  below,  eastward  of  Biggin 
church,  in  order,  by  destroying  the  bridge  over  the 
creek,  to  obstruct  the  retreat  of  the  garrison  at  the  latter 
place.  Meanwhile,  the  better  to  hold  these  several  par 
ties  advised  of  any  movement  of  Rawdon's  troops  at: 
Orangeburg,  Colonel  Henry  Hampton  seized  and  held, 
with  a  strong  party,  the  bridge  over  Four-Hole  creek, 
he,  himself,  moving  off  afterward  to  co-operate  with 
Lee.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a  plan  of  opera 
tions  better  calculated  to  effect  the  objects  of  the  expo- 


262  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

dition.  With  the  abandonment  by  the  British  of  the 
post  at  Dorchester,  Colonel  Wade  Hampton,  anticipating 
the  march  of  his  confederate,  Lee,  dashed  down  the  road 
to  Charleston,  capturing  more  than  fifty  dragoons  in  the 
march,  and,  suddenly  appearing  almost  beneath  the  lines 
of  the  city,  spread  terror  and  confusion  within  its  walls. 
With  the  conviction  that  Greene's  whole  army  was  at 
his  heels,  the  bells  were  rung,  alarm-guns  were  fired,  and 
the  entire  population  was  mustered  out  in  arms.  Con 
tent  with  thus  disquieting  them,  Hampton  retired,  and 
proceeded  to  unite  himself  with  the  force  of  Sumter. 
Lee  moved  in  the  same  direction,  and  with  the  same 
object.  The  particular  point  at  which  Sumter  aimed 
to  strike,  was  the  post  at  Biggin  church.  This  church 
within  a  mile  of  Monk's  corner,  was  a  strong  brick 
building  which  the  British  had  fortified  and  garrisoned 
It  covered  the  bridge  which  crossed  Biggin  creek,  which 
is  esteemed  the  head  of  the  West  branch  of  Cooper 
river.  On  the  east  of  this  creek  the  road  to  Charleston 
passes  Watboo  and  Quinby  creeks,  between  which  the 
road  forks  and  crosses  the  latter,  considered  the  Easl 
fork  of  the  river,  at  two  several  points  ;  the  left  at  Quinb  j 
bridge,  the  right  at  Bonneau's  ferry.  From  Biggin 
bridge,  the  only  route  westwardly  to  Charleston,  crosses 
at  Goose  creek  bridge.  To  destroy  the  bridge  at  Wat- 
boo,  was  the  object  of  the  Americans,  as  the  eastern 
route  then  became  impracticable.  The  bridge,  accord 
ingly,  became  the  object  of  interest  with  both  parties. 
It  happened,  unfortunately,  that  Sumter,  on  his  march, 
received  false  intelligence  of  a  British  detachment  a-p- 
pearing  at  Murray's  ferry.  This  place  lay  without  the 
line  of  his  march,  arid  he  lost  time  in  sending  a  force 
of  three  hundred  men  to  strike  at  the  hostile  party, 
The  delay  and  the  movement  suggested  the  clanger  to 
the  garrison  at  Biggin's,  and  ga\e  time  for  it  to  obtain 


AFFAIR    AT    ISIGUIN.  263 

reinforcements.  When  Mayliam,  who  had  been  sent  by 
Marion  to  destroy  the  bridge,  drew  nigh  for  this  purpose, 
he  found  the  enemy  in  too  much  strength  to  permit  him 
to  make  the  effort.  He  was  obliged  to  wait  patiently  for 
the  approach  of  Sumter.  The  garrison  at  Biggin  con 
sisted  of  five  hundred  disciplined  infantry,  being  the  19th 
regiment,  under  Col.  Coates,  with  a  piece  of  artillery  ana 
a  full  complement  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  horse.  On 
the  16th  July,  Sumter  marched  up  to  support  Mayham's 
attempt  upon  the  bridge.  Reinforcing  his  party  with  a 
detachment  under  Col.  Horry,  the  command  devolved 
upon  the  latter,  who  instantly  proceeded  to  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  bridge.  To  prevent  this,  the  enemy's  cavalry 
advanced,  and  were  encountered  with  such  rough  hand 
ling  that  they  were  driven  back  in  confusion.  The 
Americans  then  proceeded  t*  their  work,  but  were  soon 
driven  off  by  the  appearance  of  the  British  in  such  force 
as  to  compel  the  retreat  of  the  detachment  to  the  shelter 
of  the  main  body.  Under  the  impression  that  the  enemy 
had  marched  out  to  give  him  battle,  Sumter  retired  to  a 
defile  a  little  distance  in  his  rear,  which  he  had  selected 
as  a  favorable  spot  for  receiving  the  attack.  But  the 
purpose  of  the  British  colonel  was  more  profound.  His 
object  was  to  amuse  his  antagonist  and  wear  out  the  day. 
Retiring,  accordingly,  as  the  evening  approached,  after 
such  a  demonstration  as  served  to  keep  up  the  impres 
sion  that  he  was  in  search  of  a  fight,  he  obtained  the  time 
that  he  desired.  Night  came  on,  and  it  was  only  at  three 
in  the  morning  that  the  flames  bursting  from  the  roof  of 
the  church,  declared  the  enemy  to  be  in  motion.  He  had 
collected  all  his  stores  within  the  church,  set  them  on 
fire,  arid  moved  off  by  Watboo  and  Q,uinby,  on  the  road 
to  the  eastward 

The  pursuit  was  instantly  begun,   led   by   Lee    ana 
Hampton.     When  the  Watboo  was  passed,  it  was  dis 


LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

covered  that  the  cavalry  of  the  British,  separated  from 
the  infantry,  was  pursuing  the  road  to  the  right.  Hamp 
ton  struck  off  in  pursuit  of  this  body,  and  reached  the 
river  only  to  find  the  enemy  on  the  opposite  side,  with 
all  the  boats  in  his  possession.  Darting  back  upon  his 
route,  he  arrived  in  season  only  to  witness  the  escape 
of  their  infantry;  an  event  accruing,  perhaps,  in  con 
sequence  of  the  diversion  in  pursuit  of  their  cavalry. 
This  body  of  troops  had  been  pursued  by  the  legion 
cavalry,  seconded  by  that  of  Marion  under  Mayham, 
About  a  mile  to  the  north  of  Quinby  bridge,  they  suc 
ceeded  in  overtaking  the  rear  of  the  retreating  army, 
with  nearly  the  whole  of  the  baggage.  This  division 
of  Coates's  force,  consisting  of  one  hundred  men,  was 
commanded  by  Captain  Campbell.  At  first,  they  made 
a  show  of  resistance,  but  such  was  the  furious  charge  of 
the  cavalry,  that  it  overwhelmed  them,  and  they  threw 
down  their  arms  without  firing  a  gun.  This  imbecility 
had  nearly  involved  the  fate  of  the  whole  regiment. 
Unapprized  of  their  disaster,  since  not  a  shot  was  fired, 
Coates,  having  passed  the  bridge,  had  made  his  disposi 
tions  for  destroying  it  as  soon  as  his  rear  had  passed  in 
safety.  The  planks  which  covered  it  had  already  been 
loosened  from  the  sleepers,  and  men  stood  ready  to 
throw  them  off  at  the  proper  moment.  A  howitzer  at 
the  opposite  extremity  was  planted  for  the  protection  of 
the  party  assigned  for  its  destruction,  and  the  com 
mander  of  the  British  force  stood  waiting  impatiently 
at  the  bridge  for  the  coming  of  the  rear.  It  was  fortu 
nate  that  he  was  thus  prepared,  and  thus  present,  at  the 
place  of  danger.  The  American  cavalry  dashing  into 
view,  instead  of  the  British  rear,  warned  him  of  his  dan 
ger,  and  found  him  ready  to  employ  the  proper  means 
for  meeting  it.  His  measures  were  promptly  taken. 
His  main  body  was,  at  this  time,  partly  on  the  causeway 


AFFAIR    AT    QUINBY.  2C5 

on  the  south  side  of  the  bridge,  and  partly  crowded 
into  a  narrow  lane  beyond  it,  in  a  position  which  not 
only  disabled  them  from  present  service,  but  left  them 
particularly  exposed  to  destruction,  should  the  im 
petus  of  the  American  cavalry  cany  them  across  the 
bridge.  To  despatch  orders  to  his  troops  tq  halt,  form, 
and  march  up,  and  to  make  his  artillerists  ready  to  em 
ploy  the  howitzer,  while  his  fatigue-party  were  opening 
a  chasm  between  his  assailants  and  himself,  by  thrusting 
the  planks  into  the  water,  were  necessities  instantly  con 
ceived  and  as  instantly  set  in  motion.  Meanwhile,  the 
American  cavalry  dashed  forward.  The  legion  cavalry 
were  in  advance  of  Mayham's,  their  front  section  led  by 
Captain  Armstrong.  The  planks  sliding  into  the  water, 
and  the  lighted  portfire  beyond, hanging  above  the  how 
itzer,  left  no  time  for  hesitation  to  a  body  of  cavalry 
densely  moving  along  the  narrow  causeway  in  its  range. 
There  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost,  and,  driving  his 
rowels  into  his  steed,  Armstrong  dashed  over  the  bridge, 
followed  closely  by  his  section,  and  drove  the  artillerists 
from  the  gun.  Lieutenant  Carrington  followed  with  the 
second  section,  and  the  third  advanced,  but  faltered. 
Mayham,  with  Marion's  cavalry,  feeling  the  halt,  charged 
by  it,  but  was  arrested  in  his  career  by  the  death  of  his 
horse.  Captain  Macaulay,  who  led  his  front  section, 
pressed  over  the  bridge  to  the  opposite  causeway 
which  was  now  crowded,  hand  to  hand,  with  combat 
ants.  The  British  working  party,  snatching  up  their 
pieces,  had  fled,  after  delivering  a  single  fire.  Two  of 
Lee's  dragoons  fell  dead  at  the  mouth  of  the  howitzer, 
and  several  were  severely  wounded  ;  but  the  leaders 
were  unhurt,  and,  contending  with  Coates  and  his  offi 
cers,  who,  covered  by  a  wagon,  were  opposing  them 
with  their  swords,  while  the  British  troops  were  pres 
sing  forward  to  a  spot  in  which  they  might  display.  A 
12 


266  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

fruitless  and  tedious  endeavor,  on  the  part  of  the  Ameri« 
cans,  to  recover  the  floating  planks,  and  repair  the 
bridge  for  the  detachment  to  cross,  afforded  to  the  en 
emy  sufficient  leisure  for  their  objects ;  and  when  Arm 
strong,  of  the  legion  cavalry,  and  Macaulay,  of  May- 
ham's,  looked  about  them,  they  found  themselves  almost 
isolated  from  their  own  people,  while  the  British,  formed 
in  front,  were  ready  for  their  destruction.  It  remained 
only  to  urge  their  way  headlong  through  the  fugitives 
along  the  causeway.  Secure  in  the  fact,  that,  while  the 
British  officers  in  the  rear  would  save  them  from  the 
fire  of  their  troops  in  front,  and  pressing  forward  till  a 
secure  footing  could  be  found  in  the  woods  on  either 
side,  they  dashed  to  the  right,  and  escaped  by  heading 
the  stream.  Prepared  to  receive  a  charge  of  cavalry, 
Coates  renewed  his  labors  upon  the  bridge,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  its  destruction.  He  then  pressed  forward  to 
the  shelter  of  Shubrick's  plantation,  not  daring  to  trust 
himself  in  the  open  field  with  such  an  active  and  powerful 
hostile  cavalry  about  him.  Here,  in  the  cover  of  dwel 
ling-houses,  outhouses,  and  fences,  he  prepared  to  await 
the  approach  of  Sumter's  infantry.  The  latter,  com 
pelled  to  make  a  considerable  circuit,  did  not  reach  the 
ground  till  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  Sumter's 
opinion,  that  if  the  wholesome  audacity  of  the  first  sec 
tions  of  the  cavalry  had  been  sustained  by  the  whole, 
the  British  must  have  been  overwhelmed.  "If  the 
whole  party  had  charged  across  the  bridge,  they  would 
have  come  upon  the  enemy  in  such  a  state  of  confusion, 
while  extricating  themselves  from  the  lane,  that  they 
must  have  laid  down  their  arms." 

Sumter  found  the  British  drawn  up  in  a  square,  in 
front  of  the  house,  and  prepared  for  his  reception.  He 
had  few  bayonets,  and  his  policy  was  that  of  the  brave 
fellows  at  King's  mountain,  where  the  rifle  was  made  to 


ACTION    AT    SHUimiCIv'S.  207 

baffle  this  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  His  in 
fantry  was  divided  into  three  bodies ;  his  own  brigade 
constituting  one,  and  that  of  Marion  the  two  other  divis 
ions.  The  first  was  ordered  to  advance  and  seek  shel 
ter  under  a  line  of  negro-houses  which  they  were  to 
occupy.  Marion's  men,  without  any  cover  but  the  open 
worm  fence  of  the  country,  were  to  approach  on  the 
right  to  the  house  of  which  the  enemy  were  in  posses 
sion.  The  cavalry,  for  which  there  was  no  present  use, 
held  a  so  sure  position  sufficiently  near  to  cover  the  in 
fantry  from  pursuit.  Sumter's  men  soon  gained  the 
negro-houses,  whence  they  employed  their  rifles  with 
effect.  A  fire  from  the  fences  on  the  British  left,  from 
a  small  detachment  under  Colonel  Thomas  Taylor,  drew 
upon  him  a  charge  of  the  bayonet,  which  was  not  to  be 
withstood.  As  they  yielded,  however,  the  men  of  Mar 
ion  rushed  to  their  assistance,  and  brought  them  off  un 
der  a  galling  fire  from  the  houses.  Then,  under  the 
imperfect  shelter  of  the  fences,  they  continued  to  fire 
with  fatal  accuracy,  so  long  as  a  charge  of  powder  re 
mained  unexpended.  They  were  then  drawn  off  in 
perfect  order,  having  been  almost  the  only  losers  in  the 
action.  The  battle  was  thus  maintained  from  foui 
o'clock,  and  while  the  day  lasted,  the  enemy  firing  from 
the  houses  and  within  a  picketed  garden.  The  sun  was 
down  when  the  assailants  retired,  the  combat  having 
lasted  three  hours,  to  the  exhaustion  of  all  their  ammu 
nition.  All  that  remained  to  them  was  a  single  wagon, 
captured  at  Dorchester,  and  that  was  with  the  artillery. 
Unfortunately,  the  powder,  by  some  mismanagement, 
had  been  sent  to  headquarters,  and  it  was  not  so  ceitain 
that  Captain  Singleton,  with  the  artillery,  had  anything 
to  spare.  Of  pewter-bullets,  Sumter  was  assured  that 
there  were  plenty.  The  Americans  were  drawn  off  and 
at  a  distance  of  three  miles  from  the  scene 


268  LIFE    OP    NATHANAfiL    GREENE. 

of  action ;  the  cavalry  of  Lee  and  Marion  being  em 
ployed  to  watch  the  enemy.  The  loss  of  the  Americana 
fell  almost  entirely  on  Marion's  men,  and  occasioned 
some  bitter  discontents  among  them.  They  alleged 
themselves  to  have  been  the  victims  of  a  partiality 
which  had  exposed  them  openly  to  the  brunt  of  battle, 
tvhile  the  troops  of  Sumter  were  carefully  posted  under 
shelter.  The  British  lost  more  than  seventy  men  under 
the  deadly  fire  of  the  rifle.  Their  numbers  were  supe 
rior  to  those  of  Sumter,  but  they  were  without  cavalry, 
and  dared  not  advance  from  under  co\er. 

The  arrival  of  Sumter's  artillery  did  not  increase  his 
strength.  It  brought  with  it  no  supply  of  ammunition. 
In  the  meantime,  great  discontents  had  arisen  among  the 
Americans.  The  several  commanders  were  at  issue  in 
respect  to  the  treatment  they  had  severally  received  — 
the  militia  were  withdrawing,  and  rumors  reached 
the  camp  of  the  approach  of  Lord  Rawdon,  with  all 
his  force,  from  Orangeburg.  Sumter  was  compelled  to 
forego  the  prey  almost  within  his  grasp.  But  much 
had  been  done  by  the  expedition,  in  exciting  the  fears 
of  one  class,  the  hopes  of  another,  destroying  the  supe 
rior  reputation  of  the  enemy,  and  capturing  stores  and 
prisoners  to  a  large  amount  and  number.  Among  the 
captures  of  great  importance  was  the  paymaster's  chest 
of  Coates's  army,  containing  seven  hundred  and  twenty 
guineas,  the  largest  sum  ever  seen  in  the  American 
camp,  which  Sumter  immediately  divided  among  his  sol 
diers.  It  was  not  the  least  grateful  characteristic  in  this 
assault  upon  Coates,  that  it  reassured  the  country  on  the 
subject  of  the  spirit  still  remaining  and  ready  in  the 
state;  that  the  troops  by  which  it  was  made  were  almost 
exclusively  South  Carolina  militia.  The  command  was 
dissolved  by  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion — Sumter 
retiring  across  the  Santee,  and  Marion  into  his  brigade, 


STATE    OF    THE    ARMV. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Camp  of  the  Hills. — Greene's  Army  and  his  Labor. — Thfe  Capture 
and  Execution  of  General  Hayne. — Excitement  of  Greene  and  the 
Camp. — Retaliation  threatened. — Stuart  in  Command  of  the  British 
Army. — Successes  of  American  Cavalry. — Greene's  Army  in  Motion. 
—Retreat  of  Stuart. — Takes  Post  at  Eutaw. — Greene  approaches. 

IN  failing  to  destroy  or  capture  the  detachment  under 
Coates,  the  expedition,  whose  progress  we  have  briefly 
pursued,  failed  in  one  of  the  chief  objects  for  which  it 
was  undertaken.  But  something  considerable  was 
gained,  not  less  in  compelling  the  abandonment  of  the 
posts  of  Dorchester  and  Biggin,  than  in  the  lively  effect 
•  which  the  incursion  produced  in  the  minds  of  friends 
and  foes.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  party  undei 
Coates  ought  to  have  been  brought  to  submission. 
Errors  were  committed,  and  openly  charged  against 
particular  officers,  by  which  the  failure  was  produced. 
It  does  not  belong  to  our  narrative  to  inquire  into  this 
subject,  which  it  might  be  difficult  at  this  late  day  to 
analyze  with  any  certainty.  Though  disappointed,  in 
some  degree,  Greene  was  satisfied  with  the  moral  effect 
produced  by  the  incursion,  and  longed  for  nothing  so 
ardently  as  to  follow  it  up  with  other  enterprises  which 
should  confirm  the  wavering  and  the  doubtful.  Already 
had  much  been  done  to  paralyze  the  zeal  of  the  loyal 
ists,  and  to  awaken  the  enthusiasm  of  the  whigs.  The 
steady  successes  of  the  Americans,  the  gradual  recovery 
of  the  country,  and  the  animated  spirit  of  the  partisans, 
were  all  working  to  the  most  satisfactory  results.  Tha 


270  LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

British  auxiliaries  were  deserting  them,  and  their  foreign 
troops,  particularly  the  Irish,  were  either  following  the 
example,  or  exhibiting  a  more  dangerous  spirit  of  mu 
tiny  and  disaffection.  Could  Greene  have  received  the 
proper  succors,  from  Congress  or  the  contiguous  states 
—  men,  money,  horses,  clothing — all  of  which  were 
needed  to  success  —  enterprise  would  have  been  easy 
under  the  most  grateful  auguries,  and  success  must  have 
crowned  endeavor  with  so  many  elements  of  favor  as  to 
sanction  its  impulses.  But  the  whole  system  by  which 
the  conscript  militia  was  brought  into  the  field,  was  un 
profitable  and  unwholesome.  The  natural  strength  of 
Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  to  say  nothing  of  Georgia 
and  South  Carolina,  was  frittered  away  by  miserable  ex 
pedients  which  led  to  nothing  useful;  and  the  American 
general  soon  discovered  that,  for  the  future,  as  hitherto, 
he  must  look  chiefly  to  his  own  and  the  wretched  re 
sources  of  the  country  in  which  his  operations  were 
taken.  We  shall  forbear,  hereafter,  the  monotonous 
recurrence  to  these  subjects  of  complaint,  which,  form 
the  chief  burden  of  his  correspondence,  and  for  which 
the  necessities  of  every  day  afforded  ample  reason.  One 
half  of  his  cares  seem  to  have  arisen  from  the  necessity 
of  appealing  constantly  to  those  who  would  not  hear,  and 
of  entreating  those  who,  possibly,  could  not  grant.  His 
days  and  nights,  when  not  actually  in  the  face  of  his 
enemy,  pursuing,  or  retreating  before  him,  were  con 
sumed  in  labors  at  the  desk,  by  the  midnight  lamp  :  sug 
gesting  schemes  of  organization  for  the  militia  of  the 
states  ;  devising  plans  for  operating  against  the  British 
in  Virginia  as  well  as  in  Carolina;  now  organizing  an 
expedition  against  the  enemy  in  Wilmington,  and  now 
preparing  defences  against  the  Indians  along  the  fron 
tier,  or  persuading  them  to  treaties  of  peace  and  amity. 
For  both  purposes,  Pickens  had  been  employed  with 


STATE    OF    THE    COUNTRY.  271 

the  native  militia,  and  his  efforts  had  been  singularly 
successful.  Of  the  cares  of  the  commander  of  the  south 
ern  army,  in  restoring  civil  government,  we  can  employ 
general  language  only.  It  would  be  impossible,  in  the 
compass  of  a  single  volume,  to  depict  the  details  of  that 
terrible  civil  warfare  which  outraged  humanity  in  the 
Carolinas,  and  moved  the  people,  like  the  sons  of  Ish- 
mael,  to  raise  the  hands  of  violence  perpetually  against 
their  fellow-men.  Greene,  uniting  his  efforts  with  those 
of  Governor  Rulledge — a  highly  gifted  man,  upon  whom 
South  Carolina  had  conferred  almost  dictatorial  powers, 
and  who  was  now  with  the  army  at  the  High  hills  of 
Santee  —  contributed  greatly  to  the  restoration  of  civil 
authority  for  which  the  recent  successful  incursion  be 
low  had  greatly  paved  the  way.  But  it  was  not  easy  to 
bring  back  the  spirit  of  calm  and  peace,  and  subdue  the 
domestic  tempest,  which  still,  though  somewhat  curbed, 
ran  with  too  much  riot  through  the  land.  Wrongs  were 
remembered  for  retaliation  only,  and,  but  for  the  firm 
ness  of  the  American  general,  co-operating  with  Rut- 
ledge,  the  recent  progresses  of  the  partisans  in  the  lower 
country  would  have  covered  the  face  of  the  land  with 
carnage  and  desolation.  Angry  with  defeat,  and  ren 
dered  querulous  and  unwise  by  disappointment,  the 
British  authorities  gradually,  with  every  new  disaster 
gave  to  their  policy  a  harsher  character,  which  naturally 
increased  the  vindictive  feeling  with  which  they  were 
regarded  by  the  whigs.  The  train  of  events  by  which 
those  feelings  were  illustrated,  of  cruelties  on  the  one 
hand,  and  fierce  retaliation  on  the  other,  must  be  sought 
in  other  histories.  It  will  suffice,  in  this  place,  that  we 
refer  to  one  event,  to  which  the  domestic  history  has 
always  assigned  a  conspicuous  place  over  all  others  cf 
a  like  desci  iption.  This  was  the  wanton  execution  of 


272  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE 

Colonel  Isaac  Hayne,  by  the  British  authorities,  as  a 
deserter  and  a  spy. 

This  event  followed  the  incursion  of  the  partisans  into 
the  lower  country.  Their  successful  demonstration,  at 
the  very  gates  of  Charleston,  drew  Lord  Rawdon  to  the 
city,  at  the  head  of  five  hundred  men.  Colonel  Stuart 
was  left  in  command  of  Orangeburg.  Rawdon  was,  no 
doubt,  deeply  mortified  at  the  contraction  of  his  sphere 
of  power,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Balfour,  the  com 
mandant  of  Charleston,  as  greatly  mortified  by  the  insult 
offered  to  his  authority  when  the  flags  of  Taylor  and 
Lee  were  flaunted  in  his  sight  with  an  insolent  defiance 
which  he  lacked  the  ability  to  punish.  Both  of  these 
dignitaries,  no  doubt,  beheld  the  rapid  approach  of  the 
hour  when  they  should  be  expelled  the  country  they  had 
so  much  abused,  and,  from  the  bitterness  of  defeated 
pride,  and  an  avarice  which  was  arrested  in  the  midst  of 
its  greatest  gains,  arose  a  darker  passion,  which  brooded 
gloomily  over  its  means  of  resentment.  Unfortunately, 
the  docile  fates  brought  them  a  victim  at  the  very  mo 
ment  which  found  this  unholy  passion  most  active  in 
their  bosoms. 

Colonel  Isaac  Hayne  was  a  gentleman  of  good  char 
acter  and  family,  a  native  of  one  of  the  parishes  beyond 
the  Edisto.  He  was  a  person  equally  amiable  in  his 
manners  and  above  reproach  in  his  morals.  His  offence 
may  be  summed  up  briefly  in  a  few  sentences.  He 
came  under  the  British  authority,  as  a  citizen,  after  the 
surrender  of  Charleston.  A  proclamation  of  Cornwal- 
lis  required  all  persons,  whether  taken  in  arms  or  not,  to 
receive  a  British  protection.  The  requisition,  as  it 
might  imply  a  voluntary  recognition  of  British  authority, 
was  distasteful  to  Hayne,  who  consulted  with  his  friends 
upon  the  subject.  They  gave  it  as  their  opinion  that  he 
migb.t,  without  impropriety,  receive  the  protection  ten- 


CASE  OF  COLONEL  HAYNE.  27£ 

dered  him  —  that  the  state  was  in  the  hands  of  the  ene 
my, —  that  he  was  in  duresse  accordingly,  shadowed  on 
all  hands  by  their  power,  and  that  such  an  engagement 
implied  nothing  more  than  a  forbearance,  while  under 
their  protection,  to  demean  himself  as  an  enemy.  He 
was  the  more  ready  to  receive  and  recognise  their  argu 
ments  as,  at  the  moment,  his  wife  and  children  were  suf 
fering  from  smallpox,  needing  all  his  cares,  and  whom 
his  affections  and  his  duty  equally  denied  that  he  should 
abandon.  He  took  the  required  protection,  and  sub 
mitted  to  the  power  against  which  he  could  not  contend. 
But  circumstances  changed.  Cornwallis  disappeared. 
Rawdon  was  straitened,  and  forced  to  abandon  his  out 
posts.  The  sphere  of  British  operations  was  contracted, 
and  the  partisans  traversed  the  county  in  which  Hayne 
resided,  without  meeting  any  enemy  who  had  power  to 
oppose  them.  The  power  to  which  he  had  submitted, 
had  disappeared.  It  could  no  longer  afford  the  protec 
tion  which  it  promised.  A  new  authority  might  pro 
pose  new  terms  of  obedience,  and  he  was  only  too  well 
pleased  to  find  himself  thus  relieved  from  bonds  which 
he  had  felt  as  irksome  and  humiliating.  He  followed 
the  example  of  the  partisans,  drew  the  sword  in  the  cause 
of  his  country,  rallied  a  goodly  troop  of  his  neighbors, 
and  took  the  field  with  spirit  and  success.  With  a  de 
tachment  of  Col.  Harden's  horse,  he  had  succeeded,  by 
a  sudden  dash  in  the  vicinity  of  Charleston,  in  capturing 
a  prisoner  of  peculiar  consequence.  This  was  Genera] 
Williamson,  who  has  been  called  the  Arnold  of  South 
Carolina.  Williamson  was  by  birth  a  Scotchman,  a  man 
rude  and  unlettered,  but  of  some  popularity  in  the  upper 
country.  He  had  declared  himself  with  the  patriots  in 
1775,  had  been  of  service  h\  quelling  the  movements  of 
that  region,  but  in  the  subsequent  successes  of  the  enemy 
had  gone  over  to  their  side.  Captured  by  Hayne,  hif 
12* 


274  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

fate  seemed  to  be  inevitable.  He  could  scarcely  hope  fol 
escape  from  the  Americans,  whose  cause  he  had  aban 
doned  and  betrayed.  The  commandant  of  Charleston 
was  of  course  anxious  to  preserve  him  from  this  danger. 
In  his  solicitude  to  do  so,  he  despatched  in  pursuit  all  the 
cavalry  which  could  be  found  in  and  about  Charleston. 
An  unfortunate  indiscretion,  —  such  indiscretion  as  usu 
ally  impairs  the  best  qualities  of  the  untrained  militia 
officer — enabled  them  to  overtake  the  American  squad 
ron,  and  in  the  conflict  which  ensued,  Hayne  in  turn  be 
came  a  prisoner  to  the  British. 

He  was  conducted  to  Charleston,  where,  without  a  trial 
pursuant  to  civil  or  martial  law,  he  was  ordered  to  exe 
cution.  Lord  Rawdon  only  remained  long  enough  in  the 
city  to  witness  the  performance  of  the  sanguinary  deed, 
when  he  sailed  for  England.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  had 
been  petitioned  by  the  inhabitants,  without  regard  to  class 
or  party.  All  that  could  be  obtained  was  a  respite 
of  forty-eight  hours,  "  in  consequence  of  the  humane 
treatment  shown  by  you  to  British  prisoners  who  fell  into 
your  hands."  The  reason  given  for  the  indulgence  suf 
ficiently  pronounces  upon  the  crime  of  him  who  gave  it. 

It  was  while  Greene  lay  at  the  High  hills  of  Santee 
that  he  heard  of  this  execution.  His  feelings  were 
deeply  roused  by  this  event,  the  more  particularly,  per 
haps,  as  it  was  tacitly  assumed  by  the  country  that 
Hayne  was  selected  as  the  victim  to  appease  the  manes 
of  Andre.  The  hand  of  Greene  had  signed  the  death 
warrant  of  the  latter,  and  the  stroke  of  retaliation,  if  it 
were  such,  under  which  Hayne  perished,  was  particularly 
designed  to  goad  and  sting  the  heart  of  the  American 
general.  He  seemed  to  feel  its  purpose  to  be  such,  and 
gave  way  to  one  of  those  excessive  bursts  of  indignation 
to  which  those  men  are  especially  liable  in  extreme  prov 
ocation,  who  ordinarily  keep  their  emotions  under  tho 


GREENK    RKSOLVES    TO    RETALIATE.  275 

greatest  subjection.  Like  Washington,  Greene  was  a 
man  of  strong  feelings,  and  like  him  he  had  learned  to 
humble  them  in  obedience  to  his  will  and  his  necessities. 
At  this  time  they  burst  their  usual  bounds,  and  he  swore 
to  revenge  the  wanton  barbarity  which  had  outraged  all 
the  wonted  securities  of  war.  It  was  while  a  cartel  for 
the  exchange  of  prisoners  between  the  two  armies  was 
in  progress,  and  at  a  time  when  numbers  of  American 
prisoners,  under  the  same  category  with  Hayne,  were 
undergoing  free  release  from  British  dungeons,  that  he 
was  set  aside  for  the  sacrifice,  And  the  matter  with  re 
gard  to  himself  was  not  only  carefully  withheld  from 
Greene,  but  from  Major  Hyrne,  his  agent  for  the  ex 
change,  who  was  then  temporarily  residing  within  the 
city.  He  was  suffered  to  leave  the  city  with  the  belief 
that  all  of  the  prisoners  were  to  be  released,  under  the 
exchange  which  had  been  negotiated,  jive  only  excepted, 
one  of  whom  Hayne  was  not. 

The  resolution  of  Greene  to  retaliate,  was  expressed 
hi  his  correspondence  in  emphatic  language.  To  Marion 
he  writes:  "I  do  not  intend  to  retaliate  upon  the  tory 
officers,  but  the  BritisJi.  It  is  my  intention  to  demand 
the  reasons  of  the  colonel's  [Hayne]  being  put  to  death ; 
and  if  they  are  unsatisfactory,  as  I  expect  they  will  be; 
and  if  they  refuse  to  make  satisfaction,  as  I  expect  they 
will,  to  publish  my  intention  of  giving  no  quarters  to 
British  officers,  of  any  rank,  that  fall  into  our  hands." 
To  General  Washington  he  writes  :  "  I  am  determined 
to  retaliate,  and  as  the  enemy  are  indifferent  about  their 
militia  officers,  I  mean  to  retaliate  on  the  British,  as  the 
surest  way  to  put  a  stop  to  a  practice  that  can  Qnly  serve 
to  gratify  private  revenge."  Simultaneously  with  this 
letter,  he  published  a  proclamation  on  this  subject,  which, 
after  stating  in  emphatic  language  the  case  of  Hayne 
wont  on  to  say  that  this  proclamation  had  for  its  purpose 


276  LIRE    OP    NAT1IANAEL    GREENE. 

to  declare  his  intention  "to  make  reprisals  for  all  such 
inhuman  insults  as  often  as  they  take  place"  —  and  fur 
ther  that  "  it  is  my  intention  to  take  the  officers  of  the 
regular  forces,  and  not  the  inhabitants  who  have  joined 
their  army,  for  the  objects  of  my  reprisals."  Letters, 
on  the  same  day,  were  addressed  to  Lord  Cornwallisand 
Lieutenant-colonel  Balfour,  under  whom  the  execution 
of  Hayne  had  taken  place.  To  the  former  he  writes 
firmly  but  respectfully,  saying,  among  other  things,  "  nor 
can  I  suppose  your  lordship  can  have  a  single  doubt  that 
a  people  who  have  gone  thus  far  in  support  of  their  lib 
erties,  will  hesitate  a  moment  to  retaliate  for  every  vio 
lence  offered  to  their  adherents."  His  letter  to  Balfour 
was  in  a  different  tone,  and  reiterated  his  determination 
in  the  strongest  language. 

In  all  these  proceedings,  and  this  decision,  he  but  re 
echoed  the  single  sentiment  of  his  army.  Without  a  knowl 
edge  of  what  he  had  been  doing,  his  officers  met  together 
and  addressed  him  a  memorial,  recommending  retalia 
tion  upon  all  British  subjects  in  his  power.  "  Permit 
us,"  concludes  this  document,  "  to  add,  that  while  we  se 
riously  lament  the  necessity  of  such  a  severe  expedient, 
and  commiserate  the  sufferings  to  which  individuals  will 
necessarily  be  exposed,  we  are  not  unmindful  that  such 
a  measure  may,  in  its  consequences,  involve  our  own  lives 
in  additional  dangers  ;  but  we  had  rather  forego  tem 
porary  distinction,  and  commit  ourselves  to  the  most  des 
perate  situations,  than  prosecute  this  just  and  necessary 
war  upon  terms  so  dishonorable." 

The  list  of  signatures  to  this  paper  was  headed  by 
that  of  Isaac  Huger,  and  closed  by  that  of  William 
Washington.  There  was  but  one  known  name  of  the 
army  not  upon  it,  that  of  Lee,  and  he  was  absent  on  the 
Congaree  at  the  time  of  its  preparation.  These  pro* 
cepdings  awakened  the  fears  of  the  British  officers 


THE    TWO    ARMIES.  S77 

They  were  followed  up  by  the  commitment  to  the  pro 
vost  guard  of  several  of  their  number,  who  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Marion.  A  meeting  of  the  British  of 
ficers  in  Charleston  expressed  their  discontents  to  Bal- 
four,  in  language  which  compelled  that  petty  despot  to 
open  a  negotiation  with  Greene  on  the  subject  of  his 
complaints  and  threats.  Captain  Barry,  his  secretary, 
was  appointed  on  the  British  side,  by  Balfour,  with  full 
powers  to  discuss  and  adjust  the  difficulties  between  the 
respective  arms ;  but  circumstances  were  now  in  progress 
which  superseded  the  necessity  even  for  retaliation,  which 
the  more  deliberate  second  thought  of  Greene,  in  milder 
moments,  made  him  anxious  to  escape.  Could  he  have 
laid  his  hands  upon  either  or  both  of  the  true  offenders, 
Rawdon  and  Balfour,  there  would  have  been  no  relent- 
ings.  Their  crime  had  been  such  as  to  take  from  hu 
manity  all  the  sting  and  pain  which  still  follows  even 
upon  the  necessity  of  doing  justice  upon  the  criminal. 
The  question  was  finally  referred  to  Congress,  and  be 
longs  to  the  many  which  were  closed  rather  by  the  close 
of  the  war  itself,  than  by  any  special  consideration  of 
the  subject.  We  must  return  to  the  business  of  the 
campaign. 

Stuart,  left  by  Rawdon  in  charge  of  the  British  army 
at  Orangeburg,  was  not  for  several  weeks  in  a  condition 
to  move  with  his  weary  and  discontented  troops.  Greene, 
meanwhile,  uncertain  of  his  future  objects,  but  not 
doubting  that  the  want  of  provisions  would  lead  him  to 
the  banks  of  the  Santee  6"r  Congaree,  took  measures  for 
gleaning  the  resources  of  the  country  from  before  his 
path,  and  transferring  his  harvests  to  the  northern  side 
of  both  these  rivers,  thus  increasing  his  own  while  cut 
ting  off  the  supplies  of  his  enemy.  The  superiority  of 
the  Americans  in  cavalry,  enabled  them  very  successfully 
to  perform  this  operation.  At  length,  Stuart  advanced 


278  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

on  the  route  to  M'Cord's  ferry,  taking  post  on  the  soutli 
side  amid  the  hills  near  the  confluence  of  the  Congaree 
and  Wateree.  Here,  with  two  large  rivers  running  be 
tween,  the  two  armies  lay  in  sight  of  their  opposing  fires, 
sharpening  their  swords  for  future  conflict.  The  intense 
heat  of  the  weather  prevented  any  present  encounter, 
while  the  barriers  offered  by  the  livers  secured  each  from 
any  danger  of  surprise.  But  the  cavalry  of  the  Ameri 
cans  were  not  inactive.  Colonel  Washington  was  de 
tached  down  the  country,  across  the  Santee  ;  the  north 
bank  of  the  Congaree  was  swept  by  Lee.  The  latter 
was  sent  to  operate  with  Colonel  Henderson,  who  had 
succeeded  to  the  command  of  Sumter  ;  the  former  to  co 
operate  with  Marion  and  Mayham,  in  covering  the  coun 
try  on  the  Lower  Santee,  striking  at  the  detachments, 
the  convoys,  and  the  posts  of  the  enemy,  between  his 
camp  and  Charleston,  whenever  opportunity  offered. 
Colonel  Harden,  meanwhile,  with  a  body  of  mounted 
militia,  gathered  beyond  the  Edisto,  had  it  in  charge  to 
traverse  that  region  of  country,  and  in  like  manner  to 
strike  at  and  straiten  the  operations  of  the  enemy. 

Speaking  of  the  performances  of  these  several  detach 
ments,  at  this  period,  Greene  asserts  that  "  their  charac 
ter  for  enterprise  was  never  excelled."  Washington 
soon  succeeded  in  falling  in  with  two  parties  of  British 
horse,  which  he  dispersed,  making  fifty  prisoners.  Lee, 
penetrating  between  the  main  body  of  the  British  and 
his  post  at  Orangeburg,  and  in  sight  of  the  latter  place, 
drove  in,  dispersed,  and  captured,  several  other  parties. 
His  communications  constantly  interrupted,  and  his  sup 
plies  cut  off,  Stuart  found  himself  in  sight  of  provisions 
that  he  could  not  reach.  He  was  compelled  to  draw  his 
resources  from  below.  To  render  this  easy,  he  formed 
a  line  of  posts  —  re-establishing  that  of  Dorchester,  and 
erecting  a  new  one  at  Fairlawn,  at  the  head  of  naviga 


CONDITION    OF    THE    AMERICANS  279 

tion  on  Cooper  river.  From  this  point  the  route  of 
transportation  to  his  headquarters  was  by  land  wholly ; 
but  with  Marion,  Washington,  and  Mayham,  on  the 
watch  at  all  points,  his  means  of  subsistence  became 
momently  more  and  more  precarious. 

With  his  detachments  thus  engaged,  Greene  was  anx 
iously  looking  on  every  hand  for  the  recruits  and  rein 
forcements  which  had  been  promised  him.  His  repeated 
disappointments,  hitherto,  had  somewhat  reconciled  him 
to  their  recurrence.  With  the  eight  hundred  Pennsyl- 
vanians,  under  Wayne,  which  he  had  been  led  to  expect 
early  in  August,  he  must  have  overwhelmed  his  adver 
sary,  whose  position  left  him  entirely  open  to  the 
American  general,  should  his  strength  ever  enable  him 
to  take  advantage  of  the  circumstance.  But  Wayne 
had  been  diverted  from  Carolina  to  Yorktown.  Greene's 
North  Carolina  levies  were  sent  to  him  without  arms, 
and  he  had  none  with  which  to  provide  them.  A  corps 
of  Georgians,  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  which 
had  been  raised  by  Colonel  Jackson,  were  all  of  them 
seized  with  smallpox  at  the  same  time,  fully  oiie  third 
of  them  perishing  with  the  disorder.  Of  three  thousand 
five  hundred  North-Carolinians  which  had  been  prom 
ised,  less  than  five  hundred  made  their  appearance. 
Seven  hundred  mountaineers,  under  Shelby  and  Sevier, 
were  to  be  with  him  by  a  certain  day,  and  were  already 
en  route  for  the  scene  of  action,  when,  hearing  exaggera 
ted  accounts  of  the  successes  of  Greene  in  the  pursuit 
of  Rawdon,  they  turned  back,  and  wrote  him,  that  they 
presumed  he  longer  needed  their  assistance.  Sumter, 
meanwhile,  sick  and  offended,  had  retired  from  service, 
leaving  his  command  to  Henderson,  few  in  number  ar.d 
grievously  discontented. 

But  Greene's  necessities  were  too  pressing  to  permit 
l^m  to  b^or  \  long  over  his  deficiencies.     The  state  of 


280  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

affairs  at  the  north  left  him  no  time  to  deliberate.  "  Ws 
must  have  victory  or  ruin,"  is  the  language  of  his  impa 
tience,  addressed  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Lee ;  and  he 
adds,  that  to  obtain  the  former  he  will  spare  notl  ing. 
Calling  in  his  detachments,  he  broke  up  his  camp  at 
the  High  hills,  on  the  223.  of  August,  a  season  when  the 
heats  are  still  quite  too  excessive,  and  the  climate  too 
sickly,  to  make  active  operations  either  grateful  or  suc 
cessful.  Great  rains  had  swollen  the  swamps  and  water 
courses,  and  an  approach  to  his  enemy  required  a  tedious 
circuit  to  be  made.  He  could  only  cross  the  Wateree 
by  ascending  to  Camden.  It  was  by  this  route  that  he 
reached  Howell's  ferry,  on  the  Congaree,  on  the  28th. 
Here  he  was  advised  that  Stuart,  hearing  of  the  move 
ments  of  the  American  army,  had  fallen  back  upon  his 
reinforcements,  and  taken  post  at  the  Eutaw  springs. 
The  British  had  moved  by  forced  marches,  and  it  was  no 
longer  in  Greene's  power  to  force  him  into  action.  Lee 
was  instantly  pushed  forward  to  watch  his  movements, 
and  Pickens,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  command  of  the 
troops  of  the  state,  was  ordered  to  advance,  leisurely, 
and  take  such  a  position  as  would  enable  him  to  keep  an 
eye  on  the  British  garrison  still  at  Orangeburg.  These 
deliberate  movements  on  the  part  of  Greene,  indicative, 
as  it  were,  of  a  want  of  confidence  in  his  own  strength, 
had  the  desired  effect  on  the  British  general.  It  had 
been  the  fear  of  the  American,  that  his  adversary,  taking 
the  alarm,  would  take  his  position  too  nearly  to  the  gar 
rison  of  the  metropolis  to  be  approached  with  safety  — 
thus  cutting  off  all  the  hope  that  he  cherished  of  cnp- 
pling  him  by  a  battle.  Reassured  by  the  cautious  prog 
ress  of  Greene,  Stuart  came  to  a  halt,  and  as  Marion 
had  recently  disappeared  from  below,  on  one  of  hi.i 
secret  expeditions,  he  withdrew  his  garrison  from  Fair- 
lawn,  ordering  the  latter  up  to  reinforce  him  for  the  cou 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    BATTLE.  28 1 

fli  ct.  Greene,  meanwhile,  continued  his  march,  still  very 
deliberately,  and,  encamped  at  Motte's,  near  the  spot 
which  the  British  had  recently  abandoned.  This  cau 
tious  progress  served  to  disguise  his  real  desires,  and  to 
dissipate  the  fears  of  his  adversary.  With  the  accession 
to  Stuart's  strength  of  the  garrison  at  Fairlawn,  that  of 
Orangeburg  being  ordered  to  another,  which  was  admi 
rably  chosen  for  supporting  the  main  army,  Greene  per 
ceived  that  his  adversary  was  preparing  for  the  chances 
of  a  struggle.  But  the  American  general  had  sufficiently 
concealed  his  real  wishes,  and  lulled  the  British  colonel 
into  a  false  security.  The  former,  accordingly,  was  per 
mitted  to  approach  within  a  few  miles  of  his  position, 
and  Marion  to  form  a  junction  with  him,  without  any 
suspicion  of  the  fact  being  entertained  in  the  camp  of 
the  British.  The  order  for  Marion's  junction  with  the 
main  army  is  dated  the  4th  of  September,  and  on  the 
5th  we  find  him  seventeen  miles  above  the  enemy,  and 
in  advance  of  his  superior.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  7th, 
the  army  had  reached  Burdell's  tavern,  on  the  Congaree 
road,  seven  miles  from  the  Eutaw  springs.  Here,  hav 
ing  effected  a  junction  with  all  his  detachments,  Greene 
made  his  preparations  for  measuring  swords,  the  next 
day,  with  his  antagonist.  His  baggage,  tents,  and  every 
thing  that  might  delay  or  embarrass  his  movements,  had 
been  left  behind,  at  Motte's ;  and,  with  the  exception  of 
the  tumbrils,  the  artillery,  and  two  wagons  containing 
hospital  stores  and  rum,  not  a  wheeled  carriage  accom 
panied  the  army.  Greene's  fare  was  that  of  the  com 
mon  soldier.  That  night,  which  was  to  precede  a  des 
perate  struggle  with  his  enemy  for  superiority,  he  slept 
beneath  the  shade  of  an  ancient  China-tree,  the  huge 
roots  of  which,  bulging  from  the  earth,  yielded  a  natural 
pillow  for  his  head. 


PS2  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREEN1. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Batfib  of  Eutaw  Springs. 

THE  memorable  battle  of  Eutaw  springs,  by  whicn 
British  supremacy  was  fairly  prostrated  in  South  Caro 
lina,  was  fought  on  the  8th  day  of  September,  1781 
The  American  force,  as  we  have  seen,  lay  the  night  be 
fore  at  Burdell's  tavern,  seven  miles  from  the  scene  of 
battle.  It  consisted  of  about  two  thousand  men,  while  that 
of  the  British,  under  Colonel  Stuart,  at  Eutaw,  was  esti 
mated  at  two  thousand  three  hundred.  The  superiority 
of  the  Americans  lay  in  their  cavalry  —  a  superiority 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  position  which  the 
British  occupied,  which  was  that,  measurably,  of  a  forti 
fied  place  ;  and  by  the  quality  of  their  troops,  which  were 
all  well  disciplined.  Among  their  old  regiments  fought 
a  large  number  of  American  tories  and  deserters,  who 
added  to  the  discipline  of  the  regular  service  a  rare 
skill  as  marksmen,  arid  whose  stubbornness  in  the  con 
flict  might  safely  be  relied  on,  when  the  peculiar  peril 
in  which  they  stood  is  considered. 

It  was  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  that  the  Ameri 
can  army  moved  from  its  bivouac.  It  marched  in  four 
columns,  in  the  following  order:  The  South  Carolina 
state  troops  and  Lee's  legion  formed  the  advance,  under 
the  command  of  Colonel  Henderson.  The  militia  both 
of  North  and  South  Carolina,  under  the  lead  of  Marion, 
followed  next.  Then  came  the  regulars,  under  General 
Sumner  :  and  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  Washington's 


BATTLE    OP    EUTAW.  283 

cavalry  and  the  Delawares  of  Kirkwood,  under  the  com 
mand  of  the  former.  The  artillery  moved  between  the 
columns.  The  troops  were  thus  arrayed,  and  marched 
in  order  of  battle.  The  day  was  one  of  the  most  op 
pressive  heat,  and  the  progress  of  the  army  was  neces 
sarily  slow.  But,  up  to  the  moment  of  its  movement, 
and,  indeed,  not  until  it  was  fairly  in  progress,  did  Stu 
art  have  any  idea  of  its  approach,  so  completely  had  the 
light  detachments  cut  off  the  communication  of  the  Brit 
ish  with  the  country  around  them,  capturing,  on  the 
night  before  the  battle,  the  only  party  which  Stuart 
seems  to  have  sent  out  in  the  direction  of  his  enemy's 
approach.  The  British  colonel  appears  to  have  been 
remiss :  but  it  is  not  improbable  that,  conscious  of  his 
superiority,  in  numbers  no  less  than  position,  he  was  not 
unwilling  to  hazard  everything  on  the  chances  of  a  gen 
eral  engagement.  The  moral  of  the  British  army,  at 
this  time,  required  support  from  victory ;  and  the  pres 
tige  of  domestic  authority  was  still  more  in  need  of  iis 
influence. 

Whether  prepared  or  indifferent,  the  advance  oi 
Greene  seems  to  have  operated  as  a  surprise  upon  the 
British  general.  So  entirely  secure  did  he  feel  himself 
in  hie  position,  that,  while  the  Americans  were  getting 
under  arms  at  Burdell's,  but  seven  miles  distant,  to 
march  upon  him,  he  was  sending  forth  a  foraging  party 
of  a  hundred  men,  on  the  very  road  along  which  the 
former  were  approaching.  This  was  called  a  rooting 
party.  Its  particular  purpose  was  to  root  for  supplies 
of  the  sweet  potato,  then  growing,  of  which  the  crop 
was  abundant  throughout  the  state,  and  which,  indeed, 
constituted  the  chief  vegetable  in  the  fields  at  this  season 
of  the  year.  Stuart  was  evidently  thinking  much  more 
of  feeding  than  of  fighting. 

His  foragers   were   already  abroad,  and  some   three 


284  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

miles  from  camp,  when  a  couple  of  deserters  from  the 
North  Carolina  line  made  their  appearance  at  Eutaw, 
and  communicated  the  startling  intelligence  of  Greene's 
approach.  This  was  at  six  in  the  morning.  Stuart  im 
mediately  sent  out  a  detachment  of  infantry  and  horse, 
two  hundred  in  number,  under  Captain  Coffin,  to  recon 
noitre  the  American  position,  and  to  cover  and  bring 
in  his  foragers.  The  American  advance  had  already 
passed  the  road  which  the  potato-seekers  had  pursued, 
when  they  were  encountered  by  Coffin.  He,  ignorant 
of  the  strength  of  this  force,  and  not  dreaming  that  it 
constituted  the  advance  of  the  army,  which  he  supposed 
to  be  still  lying  where  it  had  been  left  by  the  deserters, 
charged  it  with  a  blind  confidence  which  resulted  iii  his 
defeat  and  dispersion.  The  report  of  firearms  drew  the 
foragers  out  of  the  fields,  and  the  whole  of  this  party 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Americans,  with  several  slain 
and  wounded,  and  fifty  prisoners,  of  Coffin's  detach 
ment. 

The  audacity  of  Coffin,  in  thus  boldly  charging  his 
advance,  impressed  Greene  with  the  belief  that  the  Brit 
ish  army  was  at  hand.  The  pursuit  of  Coffin,  after  the 
dispersion  of  his  force,  had  been  forborne  for  the  same 
reason  ;  and  thus  it  was,  that,  while  Stuart  was  pushing 
forward  a  detachment  of  infantry,  a  mile  in  advance  of 
his  position,  with  orders  to  engage  and  detain  the  Amer 
icans  while  he  formed  his  men  and  prepared  for  battle, 
the  latter  were  ordered  to  a  halt  upon  the  march. 
Greene  was  naturally  desirous  to  secure  as  much  time 
for  his  raw  troops  as  possible,  in  order  that  they  might 
form  with  coolness,  and  refresh  themselves  before  the 
conflict.  Had  less  caution  been  shown,  the  detachment 
of  Coffin  might  have  been  entirely  cut  off,  as  the  arrival 
of  the  fugitives  at  camp,  had  been  so  nearly  simultane 
ous  with  that  of  their  pursuers,  as  to  have  secured  to  the 


BATTLE    OF    EUTAW.  285 

Americans  all  the  advantages,  in  the  conflict  which  en 
sued,  of  a  complete  surprise. 

The  militia  column  of  Greene,  when  displayed,  formed 
his  first  line.  The  South-Carolinians,  in  equal  divisions, 
occupied  the  right  and  left,  with  the  North-Carolinians 
in  the  centre.  Marion  commanded  the  right,  Pickens 
the  left,  and  Colonel  Malmedy  the  centre.  Henderson, 
with  the  state  troops,  including  Sumter's  brigade,  cov 
ered  the  left  of  this  line,  and  Lee,  with  his  legion,  the 
right.  The  column  of  regulars  also  displayed  in  one 
line.  The  North-Carolinians,  in  three  battalions,  under 
the  several  commands  of  Colonel  Ashe  and  Majors  Arm 
strong  and  Blunt,  occupied  the  right,  and  were  mar 
shalled  by  General  Sumner.  The  Marylanders,  under 
Colonel  Williams,  were  on  the  left.  They  formed  two 
battalions,  commanded  by  Colonel  Howard  and  Major 
Hardman.  The  Virginians,  forming  two  battalions  also, 
led  by  Major  Sneed  and  Captain  Edmonds,  occupied  the 
centre,  and  were  commanded  by  Colonel  Campbell. 
The  artillery,  consisting  of  four  pieces,  two  tliree  and 
two  six  pounders,  under  Captain  Gaines  and  Captain 
Brown,  were  divided  equally  between  the  columns,  and 
moved  severally  with  each.  Colonel  "Washington,  with 
his  cavalry  and  the  Delawares  of  Kirkwood,  as  a  re 
serve,  still  marched  in  the  rear,  in  column,  with  orders  to 
maintain  his  cover  in  the  woods.  In  this  order  the  army 
moved  steadily  forward. 

But  the  advance  was  necessarily  slow.  The  country 
on  each  side,  being  mostly  in  woods,  presented  continual 
obstacles  to  the  preservation  of  order.  A  cheerful 
constancy  marked  the  progress  of  the  troops.  The 
day  was  clear  and  cloudless,  and,  but  for  the  oppressive 
heat  of  the  September  sun,  the  rays  of  which,  in  the 
south,  are  perhaps  more  fatal  to  life  than  those  of 
any  other  season,  the  progress  might  have  appeared  an 


286  LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

advance  rather  to  conquest  than  to  conflict.  The  short 
but  spirited  rencontre  with  Coffin's  detachment  was 
encouraging,  and  full  of  pleasant  auguries ;  and  the  halt 
and  brief  rest  which  they  had  taken,  to  say  nothing  of 
certain  free  draughts  of  the  then  popular  beverage  cf 
rum  and  water,  of  which  Greene  had  made  sufficient 
provision,  had  given  them  new  impulse  to  press  forward 
in  search  of  the  enemy.  The  interval  was  not  great  be 
tween  the  parties.  The  delay  in  the  approach  of  the 
Americans  had  aiforded  Stuart  sufficient  time  for  making 
all  his  preparations.  His  advance,  as  we  have  seen,  con 
sisting  of  a  strong  body  of  infantry  and  a  field-piece, 
was  thrown  out  a  mile  from  his  camp  for  the  purpose 
of  skirmishing  with  and  retarding  the  American  ap 
proach.  This  division  was  encountered  spiritedly  by 
the  American  first  line,  before  which  it  gradually  yield 
ed.  The  opposing  parties  kept  firing  as  the  one  ad 
vanced  and  the  other  retired,  until  the  British  party  was 
received  into  its  own  line  of  battle,  and  the  presence  of 
their  whole  force,  with  their  artillery  in  the  main  road, 
counselled  the  American  skirmishers  to  disappear  into 
their  proper  places  in  their  own  columns. 

The  position  of  the  British,  strong  originally  for  de 
fence,  was  rendered  more  so  by  the  judicious  arrange 
ment  which  Stuart  had  made  of  his  forces.  His  troops 
were  drawn  up  in  one  line,  the  right  of  which  was  cov 
ered  by  the  Eutaw  creek.  This  lovely  little  streamlet, 
which  issues  from  secret  avenues  of  limestone,  pursues 
a  stealthy  course  beneath  high  banks  and  a  dense  umbra 
geous  thicket.  The  ground  on  which  the  British  line  was 
drawn  up  was  entirely  in  wood.  Their  left,  which  "  was 
in  air,"  employing  the  military  language,  was  supported 
by  Coffin's  cavalry,  and  a  strong  detachment  of  infantry, 
which  was  held  closely  in  reserve,  but  at  a  convenient 
distance,  in  the  shelter  of  the  wood.  The  only  open 


BATTLE    OF    EUTAW.  2S7 

grounds  in  the  neighborhood,  were  those  which  formed 
the  precincts  of  a  plantation  settlement  and  dwelling- 
house,  the  cleared  fields  of  which  lay  immediately  in  the 
rear  of  the  British  position.  The  dwelling-house  was  of 
brick,  two  stories  in  height,  with  garret-rooms,  the  win 
dows  of  which  commanded  all  the  open  space  around. 
This  house  was  abundantly  strong  to  resist  the  fire  of  in 
fantry,  and  a  garden  in  its  rear,  enclosed  by  a  picket  fence, 
increased  its  facilities  for  defence,  and  afforded  an  excel 
lent  temporary  shelter  in  the  event  of  disaster.  A  large 
barn,  and  various  outhouses  of  wood,  might  also  con 
tribute  to  these  objects.  In  the  open  ground,  south  and 
west  of  the  house,  the  tents  of  the  British  encampment 
were  left  standing,  while  their  line  was  formed  for  battle 
in  the  foreground.  The  rear  was  in  great  degree  cov 
ered  by  the  broken  character  of  the  country,  deep  thick 
ets  of  the  scrubby  oak  or  blackjack,  and  occasional  ra 
vines.  Where  this  was  not  the  case,  the  land  lay  level, 
but  in  the  original  forest,  pierced  only  by  the  single  great 
avenue  leading  to  the  metropolis,  and  a  narrow  wagon 
track  to  Nelson's  ferry,  on  the  neighboring  river.  The 
British  commander,  in  plain  terms,  had  made  the  most 
of  his  position.  The  right  of  his  line  was  composed  of 
the  third  regiment,  "  the  Buffs."  The  debris  of  several 
corps,  led  by  Cruger,  occupied  the  centre,  and  the  left, 
having  no  natural  advantage  of  position,  was  confided  to 
two  veteran  regiments,  the  sixty-third  and  sixty-fourth. 
In  the  thickets  by  which  Eutaw  creek  is  bordered,  a  com 
mand  of  three  hundred  picked  troops  was  given  to  Major 
Alajoribanks,  whose  business  it  was  to  watch  the  Ameri 
can  flank,  while  guarding  his  own,  and  to  take  advan 
tage  of  any  opening  in  the  former,  which  should  invite 
or  justify  attack.  Major  Sheridan,  with  a  command  of 
infantry,  was  ordered  to  seize  upon  and  hold  the  dwelling- 
house  at  Eutaw,  in  the  event  of  any  misfortune,  and  frorr 


288  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

this  point  to  cover  the  movements  of  the  army.  The  ar 
tillery  of  the  British  occupied  the  main  road.  We  have 
nothing  now  to  delay  our  progress,  in  passing  to  the 
great  struggle  of  the  day. 

The  skirmishing  parties  driven  in  by  the  American 
advance)  consisting  chiefly  of  the  Carolina  militia,  Hen 
derson's  state  troops,  and  Lee's  legion,  forming  the 
American  first  line),  disappeared  in  the  rear,  leaving  their 
pursuers  opposed  to  the  whole  line  of  the  British  army. 
Stuart  maintained  his  position,  designing,  as  he  found 
himself  opposed  only  to  militia,  to  repel  the  attack  with 
out  advancing.  His  anxiety  was  only  felt  at  the  approach 
of  the  second  or  American  line  of  regulars,  for  which  he 
wished  to  hold  his  men  steadily  and  with  firmness.  But 
the  militia  on  this  occasion  were  superior  to  that  ordinary 
class  with  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  deal.  They 
might  not  be  willing  to  stand  the  charge  of  the  British 
bayonet,  for  which  110  weapons  or  training  had  prepared 
them,  but  they  had  long  since  learned  in  what  manner  to 
stand  fire.  They  were  the  men  of  Marion  and  Pickens, 
leaders  in  whom  they  had  perfect  confidence,  and  who 
never  failed  to  extract  good  service  out  of  them.  Their 
behavior  this  day  was  that  of  veterans  ;  and  as  the  field- 
pieces  of  Gaines  were  wheeled  forward  to  answer  the 
bellowing  thunders  of  those  which  confronted  them  from 
the  British  line,  along  the  road,  the  steady  fire  and  keen 
aim  of  the  southern  marksmen,  continued  to  tell,  with 
fearful  effect,  upon  their  serried  infantry,  whose  regular 
volleys  of  musketry,  with  louder  echoes,  were  yet  very 
far  from  doing  the  fearful  execution  which  followed  the 
sharp  crack  of  the  deadly  rifle.  Stuart  soon  found  that 
he  should  vainly  contend  with  such  enemies,  while  he 
occupied  his  original  position.  At  the  long  arm,  they 
were  more  than  a  match,  this  first  line  of  militia,  for  all 
his  army.  It  was  with  surprise  and  delight  that  Greene 


BATTLE    OF    EUTAW.  289 

beheld  them  advance  with  shouts  of  defiance  into  the 
very  blaze  of  the  enemy's  fire,  unaffected  by  the  fall  of 
comrades,  and  only  seeking,  with  cool  and  resolute  pur 
pose,  in  what  manner  to  avenge  them.  But  the  artillery 
oi  Gaines,  by  this  time,  had  been  demolished ;  one  of 
the  enemy's  four-pounders  had  shared  the  same  fate. 
The  carnage  on  both  sides  was  great,  and  the  militia, 
though  counting  their  bullets,  were  receiving  the  unre- 
mitted  fire  of  a  line  more  than  twice  the  number  of  their 
own.  A  forward  movement  of  the  enemy  at  length 
forced  tnem  to  retire,  but  not  until  seventeen  rounds  had 
been  delivered. 

General  Sumner,  with  his  three  battalions  of  North-Car 
olinians,  was  then  ordered  up  to  the  support  of  the  militia. 
This  corps  was  composed  of  new  levies,  but  they  had 
been  under  discipline,  and  behaved  handsomely.  The 
battle  was  resumed  with  all  its  former  fury,  and,  with 
the  appearance  of  Sumner's  division,  Stuart  was  com 
pelled  to  order  into  line  on  his  left  the  infantry  of  his  re 
serve.  The  struggle  was  thus  continued  by  fresh  troops 
on  both  sides  —  without,  however,  relieving  some  of  those 
who  had  been  at  work  from  the  commencement  of  the 
action.  Such  was  the  case  with  the  infantry  of  the  Amer 
ican  covering  parties,  both  on  the  right  and  left  of  the 
line.  The  legion  infantry  was  engaged  on  the  right  with 
the  sixty-third  ;  while  Henderson,  on  the  left,  with  the 
troops  of  the  state,  had  been  thrown  into  the  most  ex 
posed  situation  of  the  whole  field,  in  consequence  of  the 
American  left  falling  short  of  the  British  right,  and  sub 
jecting  it  to  the  oblique  fire  of  a  large  proportion  of  this 
wing  of  the  enemy,  together  with  that  of  the  battalion 
under  Majoribanks,  which  was  also  in  cover  of  the  woods. 
These  were  new  troops,  arid  their  constancy  was  severely 
tried.  Henderson  entreated  to  be  permitted  to  charge 
the  enemy  opposed  to  him,  and  in  this  way  extricate  him« 
13 


290  LIFE     OP    NATHANAEL    GEEENE. 

self  from  a  fire  witn  which  he  could  not  contend  equally? 
but  any  such  movement  must  have  periled  the  flanks  of 
the  militia,  and  exposed  the  artillery  :  and  the  brave  colo 
nel  held  his  position,  sustained  with  unflinching  fortitude 
:>y  all  his  command,  until  he  was  disabled  by  a  wound. 
With  the  appearance  of  Sumner,  and  the  resumption  of 
the  battle,  order  was  restored  in  his  detachment,  now 
under  the  command  of  Colonel  Wade  Hampton,  sustained 
by  Colonels  Polk  and  Middleton,  and  they  continued  in 
the  fight  until  Sumner's  brigade,  after  a  noble  contest, 
yielded  in  turn  to  the  fire  of  numbers  much  greater  than 
their  own.  The  British  had  gained  the  advantage,  but 
it  was  only  by  bringing  their  reserve  into  action.  All 
their  strength  was  now  engaged  in  the  melee,  while  the 
greater  part  of  the  second  line  of  the  Americans,  with 
the  whole  of  their  reserve  and  cavalry,  hitherto  unem 
ployed,  were  wholly  fresh  for  action.  Of  this  fact,  warmly 
engaged  in  the  excitement  of  the  struggle,  the  British 
line  knew  nothing.  With  the  yielding  of  the  American 
centre  before  them,  they  concluded  the  victory  to  bo 
won,  and,  exulting  in  the  prospect,  they  darted  forth  as 
if  to  secure  the  prey.  This  was  the  very  moment  for 
which  Greene  had  been  watching.  Pressing  forward 
with  loud  shouts,  the  British  line  became  disordered,  and, 
seeing  his  moment,  the  American  general  gave  the  or 
der  to  the  commander  of  the  second  line  —  "Let  Wil 
liams  advance  and  sweep  the  field  with  his  bayonets !" 
The  rival  regiments  of  Maryland  and  Virginia,  the  one 
led  by  Williams,  the  other  by  Campbell,  rushed  forward 
with  trailed  arms  to  obey  it.  Reserving  their  fire,  they 
hurried  on  with  shouts  of  exultation,  and  preserving 
their  order,  while  exhibiting  the  highest  degree  of  emu 
lation,  they  moved  to  the  fatal  charge.  Within  forty 
yards  of  the  enemy,  the  Virginians  poured  in  a  destruc 
tive  fire,  when  the  whole  line  pressed  forward  to  finish 


BATTLE    OF    BUT AW.  29) 

the  work  with  naked  steel.  With  their  advance  the  Brit 
ish  line  showed  symptoms  of  disquiet,  and  began  to  re 
trograde  in  some  disorder.  At  this  lucky  moment,  the 
legion  infantry  of  Lee,  on  the  extreme  left,  availing  itself 
of  the  exposure  of  the  British  flank,  delivered  a  heavy 
enfilading  volley,  and  followed  it  up  with  a  charge  of 
bayonets.  This  confirmed  the  apprehensions  of  the  ene 
my,  and  their  left  was  thrown  into  irretrievable  disorder. 
But  their  right  and  centre  still  appeared  immoveable. 
It  was  now  for  the  Marylanders  to  do  what  the  Virgin 
ians  had  rather  precipitately  done  before.  They  threw 
in  a  fatal  fire  of  their  whole  brigade,  and  the  panic  which 
already  pervaded  the  British  left  extended  to  the  remain 
ing  divisions.  No  troops  ever  came  nearer  to  the  actual 
crossing  of  the  bayonet :  so  nigh  were  they,  indeed,  that 
the  opposing  officers  sprang  at  each  other  with  their 
swords.  But  the  appearance  of  a  conflict  so  desperate 
was  only  for  an  instant.  "  The  Buffs"  alone  stood  firm 
against  the  shock,  and,  for  a  while,  the  mutual  thrust  of 
the  bayonet  transfixed  the  opposing  combatants  in  their 
several  ranks.  But  the  fire  of  the  Marylanders,  followed 
up  by  their  desperate  charge,  swept  away  all  opposition. 
The  whole  line  of  the  enemy  gave  way.  The  rout  was 
complete,  the  fugitives  hurrying  away  to  seek  the  shel 
ter  of  the  post  already  designated  for  this  purpose,  in  the 
event  of  disaster,  while  many,  with  a  nameless  terror, 
sped  forward  to  carry  the  tidings  of  defeat  and  dismay 
to  the  very  gates  of  Charleston. 

The  victory  was  now  considered  certain,  but  fortune 
was  about  to  exhibit  one  of  those  caprices  which  are 
supposed  to  prove  her  blindness.  Many,  who  already 
joined  in  the  shouts  of  victory,  were  yet  decreed  to  bleed. 
The  carnage  had  only  commenced.  The  Americans  pur 
sued  the  fugitive  enemy  to  their  camp.  Here,  however, 
the  Britnh  officers  had  made  their  stand.  Here,  as  pre* 


292  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

viously  concerted,  the  dwelling-house  had  been  convert' 
ed  by  Major  Sheridan  into  a  fortress,  which  he  occupied 
with  a  strong  body  of  infantry ;  while  others  were  busy 
in  arresting  the  fugitives  in  their  flight  and  subduing  them 
to  order  under  the  cover  of  the  fences  and  pickets.  Ma- 
joribanks,  with  his  detachment  of  three  hundred,  still 
stood  firm  under  cover,  in  the  thickets  which  border  the 
Eutaw,  and  where  the  extreme  of  the  British  right,  stretch 
ing  considerably  beyond  the  American  left,  still  betrayed 
a  reluctance  to  give  way.  They  felt  the  protection  af 
forded  them  by  his  command,  and  were  not  insensible  to 
the  superiority  which  they  yet  possessed  over  their  enemy. 
The  two  armies  meanwhile — the  American  right  pres 
sing  the  British  left,  which  no  longer  offered  resistance 
—  were  now  performing  together  "  a  half  wheel  which 
brought  them  into  the  open  ground  in  front  of  the  house." 
Greene  now  saw  that  unless  Majoribanks  was  dislodged, 
the  Maryland  flank  would  be  traversed  by  his  fire.  Or 
ders  were  given  to  Washington  to  pass  the  American 
left  and  charge  the  British  right.  Colonel  Hampton  was 
despatched  to  co-operate  with  Washington.  The  latter, 
however,  had  already  proceeded  in  his  charge  ;  and, 
sweeping  through  the  woods  with  his  mounted  men  only, 
was  endeavoring  to  break  through  the  dense  and  almost 
impervious  thicket  in  which  Majoribanks  found  shelter. 
While  engaged  in  this  endeavor,  the  fire  of  Majoribanks 
was  delivered  with  destructive  effect,  which  emptied  a 
score  of  saddles,  and  brought  down  every  officer  but  two. 
Washington  himself  fell,  his  horse  being  shot  under  him, 
and,  while  struggling  to  extricate  himself,  was  bayonet- 
ed  and  taken  prisoner.  Hampton  with  his  command 
appeared  at  this  moment,  and,  collecting  the  scattered 
fractions  of  Washington's,  renewed  the  desperate  at' 
tempt,  but  with  similar  disappointment.  His  attempt 
was  followed  up  with  more  perseverance  by  Kirkwood's 


BATTLE    OF    EUTAW.  293 

infantry,  before  whose  bayonets  the  detachment  of  Ma- 
joribanks  slowly  yielded,  still  holding  their  cover  in  the 
thicket,  and  making  for  a  new  position,  in  closer  neigh 
borhood  with  the  main  army,  with  their  rear  protected  by 
Eutaw  creek,  and  sheltered  by  the  pickets  of  the  garden. 
At  this  moment  the  whole  British  line  was  flying  before 
the  bayonets  of  the  Americans.  Their  right  had  imbibed 
the  panic  which  had  seized  the  left,  and  were  in  full 
flight.  Their  course  lay  through  their  encampment. 
The  Americans  were  pressing  closely  at  their  heels,  ma 
king  prisoners  at  every  step ;  and  the  sole  hope  of  the 
British  lay  in  the  possession  which  Sheridan  had  taken 
of  the  brick  dwelling-house  which  commanded  the  field 
—  in  the  compact  front  which  Majoribanks  still  present 
ed —  and  in  the  fact  that  some  of  the  routed  companies, 
from  the  left,  had  made  good  their  retreat  into  the  pick 
eted  garden,  from  which,  under  a  partial  cover,  they 
could  fire  with  effect.  Even  these  positions  were  not 
gained  but  with  great  difficulty.  So  keen  and  close  had 
been  the  pursuit,  that  detached  bodies  of  the  Americans 
had  reached  the  house  before  it  was  yet  fairly  occupied 
by  the  men  of  Sheridan.  An  attempt  to  enter  along 
with  them,  brought  on  a  severe  struggle  at  the  entrance, 
in  which,  had  the  American  party  been  sustained  by  the 
appearance  of  their  horse,  as  they  should  have  been,  even 
this  last  resort  of  the  British  must  have  been  taken  from 
them.  The  latter  prevailed,  however,  succeeding  in  ef 
fecting  their  own  entrance  and  excluding  their  assailants, 
while  their  sharp-shooters  from  the  upper  windows  ef 
fectually  repelled  the  audacity  of  their  pursuers.  So 
short  was  the  time  allowed  them  —  so  narrow  was  their 
escape — 'that  they  could  only  secure  the  dwelling  against 
the  Americans  by  shutting  the  door  in  the  faces  of  some 
of  their  own  officei  s.  These  were  made  prisoners  by 
the  former.  One  of  them  was  a  dapper  little  gallant  of 


204  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

the  British  army,  a  great  ladies'  man,  a  wit,  and  seine 
thing  of  a  Brummell.  This  was  Major  Barry,  the  secre 
tary  of  Balfour,  the  commandant  of  Charleston.  Barry 
fell  into  the  hands  of  Lieutenant  Manning,  of  Lee's  legion, 
Manning,  finding  the  upper  windows  to  be  full  of  British 
musketeers,  about  to  measure  his  person  with  their  muz 
zles,  did  not  scruple  to  seize  Barry,  and,  before  the  as 
tonished  Briton  could  conceive  his  purpose,  to  hoist  him 
upon  his  shoulders.  Thus  covered  with  the  scarlet  of  a 
British  uniform,  with  the  person  of  one  of  their  officers 
completely  covering  his  own,  the  lieutenant  reasonably 
calculated  that  he  should  interpose  a  sufficient  physical 
as  well  as  moral  reason  why  he  should  not  incur  the  pen 
alty  of  a  shower  of  British  bullets.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Barry  interposed  in  the  language  of  offended  dignity : 
"Sir!"  said  he,  "sir,  I  am  Henry  Barry;  I  am  deputy- 
adjutant  of  the  British  army;  captain  in  his  majesty's  fif 
ty-second  regiment;  secretary  to  the  commandant  of 
Charleston,  &c. ;  major  of,"  &c.  "  The  very  man  I  was 
in  search  of,"  answered  Manning;  "I  am  delighted  to 
make  your  acquaintance !  Fear  nothing,  Adjutant  Bar 
ry,  fear  nothing.  It  is  my  policy  to  take  care  of  you, 
and  I  am  determined  you  shall  take  care  of  me :  we 
must,  in  times  like  these,  take  care  of  each  other."  The 
Virginian  succeeded  in  carrying  off  his  captive  upon  his 
back  in  safety. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  fruits  of  the  victory 
were  lost  to  the  Americans.  When  the  pursuing  army 
made  their  way  to  the  British  encampment,  and  found 
their  tents  all  standing,  filled  with  "  creature  comforts" 
of  a  character  too  tempting  for  a  famished  soldiery,  the 
business  of  pursuit  was  forgotten ;  the  object  of  strife, 
the  new  perils  which  attended  their  position.  They 
were  unequal  to  the  temptation,  and  fell  to,  with  fiercest 
appetite,  upon  the  unwonted  luxuries  of  the  British  com- 


BATTLE    OP    EUTAW.  205 

missariat.  They  scattered  themselves  among  the  tents; 
and  eagerly  seizing  upon  the  food  and  liquor  which  they 
contained,  became  in  a  short  time  utterly  unmanageable. 
Irretrievable  was  the  confusion  which  followed  in  the 
ranks  of  the  American  army.  It  was  in  vain  that  their 
officers,  exposing  themselves  to  the  British  marksmen 
firing  from  the  windows,  strove  to  extricate  them  from 
their  wretched  predicament.  But  a  few  corps  escaped 
the  pernicious  attraction,  from  the  baneful  effects  of  which, 
upon  the  army,  it  was  difficult  to  perceive  a  remedy.  The 
tents  were  covered  by  the  fire  from  the  house.  This 
was  fast  thinning  the  American  officers,  whose  sense  of 
duty  prompting  the  sacrifice,  passed  from  tent  to  tent  in 
the  hope  of  bringing  the  soldiers  to  their  duty.  These 
were  fast  becoming  indifferent  to  the  consequences  of 
their  error.  Greene  was  soon  conscious  of  his  danger. 
He  saw  that,  while  the  fire  from  the  house  swept  the 
encampment,  Majoribanks,  supported  by  Coffin's  cavalry, 
was  watching  his  moment  to  engage  in  the  performance. 
His  orders  were  extended  for  the  legion  cavalry  to  fall 
upon  and  disperse  the  command  of  Coffin ;  while  the  ar 
tillery  of  the  second  line  of  the  Americans,  which  had  not 
been  dismounted  in  the  conflict,  together  with  a  couple 
of  six-pounders  which  the  enemy  had  abandoned  in  their 
flight,  were  brought  forward  to  batter  the  house  in  which 
Sheridan  had  taken  shelter.  Unfortunately,  the  very  ar 
dor  of  those  U  whom  this  duty  was  intrusted  was  fatal 
to  its  object.  They  had  run  the  pieces  so  nearly  to  the 
house  as  to  leave  them  commanded  by  its  musketry.  The 
consequence  was,  that  the  artillerists  had  scarcely  opened 
their  fire,  which  must  have  compelled  the  surrender  of 
the  garrison,  if  properly  directed,  when  they  were  all 
swept  away  by  the  destructive  storm  of  bullets  which  re 
sponded  from  the  house.  The  guns  were  left  unmanned, 
utterly  abandoned,  and,  very  soon  after,  a  movement  of 


296  LIFE  OF  NATHANABL  GREENE. 

the  detachment  of  Majoribanks  threw  them  into  his  pos 
session.  The  orders  sent  by  Greene  to  Lee,  for  the  dis 
persion  of  Coffin's  cavalry,  did  not  find  the  former  offi 
cer,  who  was  with  his  infantry.  They  were  delivered  to 
Major  Eggleston,  with  a  detachment.  He  made  the 
charge  with  promptness  and  decision,  but  lacked  the 
force  to  make  the  proper  impression  on  the  command  of 
Coffin.  The  latter  drove  forward,  and,  but  for  the  timely 
arrival  of  Hampton,  with  his  own  and  the  remains  of 
Washington's  cavalry,  that  of  Eggleston  would  have 
been  scattered  like  chaff  before  the  wind.  An  obstinate 
struggle  follovyed,  hand  to  hand,  in  which  the  British 
horse  were  finally  driven  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  in 
fantry  under  Majoribanks.  These  lay  perdu ;  and  the 
eager  pursuit  of  Coffin  brought  the  cavalry  of  Hampton 
once  more  within  reach  of  their  destructive  fire.  The 
American  cavalry  recoiled  beneath  it,  were  again  re 
pulsed  and  broken,  and,  availing  himself  of  tho  moment 
when  they  were  seeking  shelter  in  the  woods,  Majori 
banks  dashed  out  from  his  covert,  seized  the  artillery,  and 
dragging  it  off  in  triumph,  proceeded  to  feel  with  his 
bayonets  the  tents  where  still  lingered  that  remnant  of 
the  American  soldiers  who  were  too  inebriate  for  escape. 
Greene,  with  the  failure  of  his  artillery,  had  called  off 
his  forces.  His  army  was  soon  rallied  in  the  cover  of 
the  woods  ;  and,  though  Stuart  had  now  succeeded  in 
forming  his  line  anew,  he  was  in  too  crippled  a  condi 
lion  to  venture  beyond  the  cover  of  the  house. 


RESULTS    OP     THE    CONFLICT.  297 


CHAPTER  XXL 

The  American  Army  retires  to  the  Hills  of  the  Santee. — Its  Condition  an^ 
that  of  the  British. — The  Movements  of  the  Partisans. — Stuart  at  Wan- 
toot. — The  Fall  of  Cornwallis. — The  Hopes  it  inspired. — Their  Disap 
pointment. — Greene  marches  for  the  Edisto. — Rapid  Approach  to  Dor 
chester. — Flight  of  the  Garrison. — Stuart  retreats. — Alann  in  the  British 
Army. — The  Americans  take  Post  on  the  Round  O. 

THUS  ended  this  obstinate  conflict,  in  which  both  sides 
claimed  the  victory :  the  Americans,  because  the  enemy 
had  been  driven  from  the  field,  and  pursued  to  their  en 
campment  ;  the  British,  because,  in  the  second  struggle, 
at  the  encampment,  all  the  advantages  lay  with  them  — 
the  Americans  being  repulsed  with  the  loss  of  their  ar 
tillery.  Thus  far,  the  claims  of  both  parties  may  be  re 
garded  as  very  nearly  equal.  If,  with  a  superior  force, 
the  British  deserve  reproach  for  being  driven  from  the 
field,  still  greater  is  it  to  the  discredit  of  the  Americans 
that  they  should  have  suffered  the  victory  already  in  their 
possession  to  be  lost  by  misconduct  or  mismanagement. 
Unquestionably  the  affair  was  mismanaged  by  the  Amer 
icans,  and  there  was  great  misconduct.  It  is  not  within 
the  compass  of  a  work  like  ours  to  discuss  the  degree 
of  censure  which  should  apply  to  those  having  in  charge 
the  duties  which  were  slurred  in  performance,  and  the 
mistakes  which  led  to  the  disaster.  It  is  enough,  in  re 
gard  to  our  subject,  to  say  that  Greene  succeeded  in 
drawing  off  his  several  corps  in  most  respects  entire. 
He  might  still  have  renewed  the  battle  with  advantage, 
and  probably  would  have  done  so,  but  for  the  excessive 
13* 


298  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

heat  of  the  weather,  the  intensity  of  which  was  such  that 
the  soldiery  might  be  seen  to  plunge,  for  water  to  quench 
their  intolerable  thirst,  into  puddles  which  were  deeply 
discolored  with  the  blood  of  their  comrades.  Content 
with  having  driven  his  enemy  from  the  field,  and  so  crip 
pled  him  as  to  make  his  further  flight  to  the  metropolis 
essential  to  his  safety,  Greene  retired  for  the  present  to 
the  place  where  he  had  spent  the  previous  night,  seven 
miles  from  the  field  of  battle.  He  halted  on  the  ground 
only  long  enough  to  collect  and  bring  off  his  wounded, 
and  make  arrangements  for  burying  his  dead ;  and  leav 
ing  Colonel  Hampton  with  a  strong  picket  to  watch  the 
enemy, lie  withdrew  to  Burdell's,  the. only  place  in  which 
water  could  be  found  adequate  to  the  wants  of  the  army. 
The  losses  of  the  American  army,  chiefly  the  result  of 
the  second  conflict  in  the  open  grounds,  were  very  heavy. 
Their  returns  exhibited  a  loss  of  one  hundred  and  four 
teen  rank  and  file  killed,  three  hundred  wounded,  and 
forty  missing — the  aggregate  exceeding  one  fourth  of  all 
who  marched  into  battle.  The  British  acknowledged  a 
loss  of  three  commissioned  officers  killed,  sixteen  wound 
ed,  and  ten  missing;  of  rank  and  file,  eighty-two  killed, 
three  hundred  and  thirty-five  wounded,  and  two  hundred 
and  forty-seven  missing.  And  yet  Greene  brought  off 
from  the  field  of  battle  four  hundred  and  thirty  prisoners, 
not  including  seventy  wounded  which  Stuart  left  behind 
him  when,  the  next  day,  he  abandoned  the  Eutaws.  The 
American  loss  had  been  particularly  severe  in  officers  : 
sixty-one  of  these  had  been  killed  or  wounded  ;  of  these, 
twenty-one  had  died  upon  the  field  of  battle  —  the  gallant 
Campbell,  of  Virginia,  among  them,  dying  in  the  arms 
of  victory — declaring  himself  "contented,"  when  told 
that  the  enemy  were  flying.  The  condition  of  Washing- 
ton's  command  particularly  provoked  the  regrets  and  sor 
rows  of  the  American  general.  Their  almost  desperate 


STUART    RETREATS.  299 

charge  upon  the  thickets  which  covered  the  detachment 
of  Majoribanks  was  a  proof  of  the  most  chivalrous  self- 
de\  >tion.  Visiting  the  hovel  where  their  wounded  lay, 
the  evening  after  the  battle,  his  full  heart  forced  from  his 
lips  the  apology  —  "  It  was  a  trying  duty,  but  unavoida 
ble.  I  could  not  help  it." 

Feeble  as  he  was,  scarcely  less  crippled  than  his  ene 
my,  and  exceedingly  deficient  in  officers,  of  which  he 
had  never  been  provided  with  an  adequate  complement, 
Greene  was  by  no  means  insensible  to  the  necessity  of 
grasping  all  the  advantages  which  must  ensue  from  the 
bloody  struggle  which  was  just  ended.  He  reasonably 
conjectured  that  the  necessities  of  his  condition  would 
compel  the  British  commander  to  abandon  his  position 
and  seek  security  in  Charleston,  or  be  compelled  to  cal"1 
up  reinforcements  from  that  place  for  the  maintenance 
of  his  ground.  In  order  to  baffle  either  purpose,  Lee 
and  Marion  were  despatched,  with  instructions  to  cover 
the  avenues  between,  and  cut  off  the  retreat,  or  arrest 
the  reinforcements ;  while  Greene  himself,  in  the  event 
of  Stuart's  flight,  should  press  the  pursuit,  and  try  the 
issue  of  another  conflict.  But  Stuart  was  even  more 
crippled  than  the  Americans  had  imagined.  His  exi 
gencies  admitted  of  no  delay.  Calling  up  the  garrison 
at  Fairlawn  to  cover  his  retreat,  he  broke  up  his  encamp 
ment  the  day  after  the  battle,  destroying  his  stores,  a 
thousand  stand  of  arms,  leaving  his  deadunburied,  and  sev 
enty  of  his  wounded  to  the  mercy  and  care  of  the  Amer 
icans.  His  flight  was  so  rapid  as  to  elude  the  attempt  of 
Lee  and  Marion  to  cast  themselves  across  his  path  —  at 
least  before  his  junction  had  been  effected  with  the  rein 
forcement  from  Fairlawn,  which  left  them  too  inferior  in 
force  to  attempt  to  retard  his  progress.  Greene,  himself,  at 
3nce  joined  in  the  pursuit,  which  was  continued  for  a  day, 
out  without  overtaking  his  enemy  Finding  the  chase 


300  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

fruitless,  be  determined  to  give  his  army  a  necessary  rest, 
and,  after  a  short  halt  at  the  Eutaws,  he  returned  once 
more  to  the  salubrious  hills  of  the  Santee. 

Never  was  respite  from  toil  more  necessary.  Critical 
and  embarrassing  as  had  been  his  frequent  situations,  it 
was  never  more  so  than  immediately  after  the  battle  at 
Eutaw.  His  militia  had  left  or  were  about  to  leave  him. 
Of  the  North-Carolinians  there  remained  but  a  hundred 
men,  and  their  term  of  service  was  at  its  close.  The 
South  Carolina  militia,  Under  Marion,  Pickens,  Hamp 
ton,  and  others,  were  necessarily  detached  for  the  pur 
pose  of  covering  the  country;  and  the  army,  now  consisting 
of  continentals  alone,  was  burdened  with  the  duty  of  at 
tending  upon  nearly  six  hundred  wounded,  one  half  of 
whom  were  British  :  and  this  at  the  worst  period  of  the 
year — when  the  heat  was  most  excessive,  when  the  acute 
fevers  of  the  climate  were  most  prevalent,  and  when  ex 
posure  by  night  or  day,  however  slight,  was  eminently 
full  of  peril.  Yet  his  wounded  and  prisoners  were  to  be 
conveyed  by  water  through  a  region  of  malaria.  They 
were  taken  in  boats  up  the  Wateree,  inhaling  the  fatal 
miasma  of  the  swamps  through  which  they  passed,  and 
suffering  accordingly  from  their  subtle  and  poisonous  in 
fluences.  A  muster  at  the  American  army  at  headquar 
ters,  ten  clays  after  the  battle  of  Eutaw,  could  not  have 
shown  a  thousand  soldiers  fit  for  duty.  Greene  has  been 
reproached  for  moving  from  the  "  Hills,"  and  attempting 
the  enemy's  post,  at  so  early  a  period  in  the  season.  But 
we  can  not,  at  this  late  day,  do  full  justice  to  his  motives 
and  necessities.  The  movement  was  probably  necessary 
for  the  encouragement  of  his  militia,  and  with  the  view 
to  drive  the  enemy  from  a  region  in  which  the  now  rap 
idly  maturing  harvests  enabled  him  to  supply  his  ex 
hausted  granaries.  It  was  probably  taken  with  the  ad- 
vice  of  Governor  Rutledge,  at  this  time  in  the  American 


GRKENE'S  CONDITION.  301 

camp,  a  gentleman  admirably  informed  in  the  condition 
of  the  country,  and  to  whose  judgment  Greene  habitually 
deferred  in  most  local  matters.  Nor,  indeed,  when  we 
regard  the  consequences  of  the  movement,  have  we  any 
reason  to  be  dissatisfied.  If  the  American  army  was 
enfeebled  by  the  enterprise,  its  results  were  far  more 
hurtful  to  the  enemy.  If  the  regulars  were  prostrated 
by  sickness  from  taking  the  field  in  September,  the  mili 
tia  had  been  busy  the  whole  summer,  under  Marion  and 
Pickens,  exposed  to  still  worse  hazards.  In  all  proba 
bility  the  main  army  suffered  rather  by  its  previous  re 
pose,  than  by  its  subsequent  activity ;  since  all  experi 
ence  has  served  to  show  that,  in  a  southern  climate  like 
that  of  Carolina,  the  powers  for  physical  resistance  to  the 
approaches  of  disease  are  far  less  easily  sustained  by  a 
languid  mode  of  life  than  by  that  which  duly  exercises 
the  body  and  maintains  a  proper  vitality  in  the  skin. 
Greene's  army  needed  numbers  rather  than  health,  not 
suffering  in  this  latter  respect  more  than  is  ordinarily  the 
case  with  armies  in  midsummer,  whether  in  action  or  in 
camp.  It  was  the  militia  system  which  kept  him  feeble, 
rather  than  the  climate,  and,  at  this  very  moment  we  find 
him  complaining  only  of  his  numerical  weakness,  which 
forbade  the  efforts  which  his  military  judgment  rendered 
him  anxiously  inclined  to  make. 

His  eye  was  still  fixed  with  yearning  upon  the  career 
of  Cornwallis  in  Virginia.  The  very  day  on  which  the 
battle  of  Eutaw  was  fought,  he  received  intelligence  of 
the  operations  of  the  northern  army  against  his  ancient 
adversary,  with  the  suggestion  that,  in  the  exigency  of 
the  latter,  he  would  endeavor,  by  a  forced  march  through 
North  C  arolina,  to  make  his  escape  to  Charleston.  In  this 
event,  how  could  Greene,  with  the  skeleton  regiments  of 
the  southern  army,  arrest  his  retreat  1  It  was  this  force 
which  alone  would  be  relied  upon  for  the  attempt,  yet 


302  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

with  what  hope  or  prospect  of  success  could  it  be  used  ? 
Still  it  was  necessary  to  prepare  for  the  event ;  and,  feeble 
as  he  was,  Greene  was  well  aware  of  the  disastrous  conse 
quences  which  would  result  to  the  American  cause,  should 
Cornwallis  with  his  division  succeed  once  more  in  making 
his  way  into  South  Carolina.  While  mourning,  according 
ly,  over  his  shattered  columns,  he  yet  meditated  to  throw 
himself  across  the  path  of  the  British  general  at  all  haz 
ards,  holding  him  at  bay,  if  possible,  until  the  army  from 
Virginia  could  assist  him  in  compassing  the  game.  From 
his  camp  at  the  hills  he  could  dart  at  any  moment  in  the 
required  direction,  and  this  was  a  principal  motive  in  re 
suming  his  position  at  this  point.  Here  he  once  more 
resumed  those  toilsome  and  seemingly  little-profitable 
labors  by  which  he  hoped  to  arouse  the  contiguous  coun 
try  to  a  sense  of  their  duties  and  his  necessities.  The 
governors,  lawyers,  and  chief  men,  of  the  neighboring 
states,  were  addressed  with  the  thrice-told  tale  of  priva 
tion,  and  urged,  with  strenuous  arguments  and  entreaties, 
in  behalf  of  new  and  energetic  movements  for  the  relief 
and  increase  of  the  army  proper.  Again  was  the  prayer 
for  reinforcements  almost  desperately  urged  in  quarters 
which  had  but  too  frequently  listened  with  dull  ear  be 
fore  ;  and  thus  passed  the  months  of  September  and  Oc 
tober,  with  little  relief  to  the  monotony  of  labors  which 
were  compelled  by  a  sense  of  duty;  but  he  was  too  often 
mortified  by  repulse  not  to  feel  in  the  performance  much 
more  weariness  than  hope. 

Meanwhile,  Stuart  had  recovered  from  his  panic.  The 
report  of  the  probability  of  Cornwallis's  approach  had 
reached  him  also,  and  had  prompted  him  to  a  demonstra 
tion,  which  was  perhaps  quite  as  much  intended  for  the 
recovery  of  public  opinion,  as  with  the  view  to  anymore 
important  advantages.  Collecting  reinforcements  from 
oelow,  and  strengthening  his  cavalry,  he  pushed  the 


STUART  ADVANCES  TO  THE  SANTEE.        30^ 

Ameiican  detachments  from  before  his  path,  and  once 
more  advanced  upon  the  Eutaws.  Marion  and  Hampton 
were  both  compelled  to  retire  across  the  rivers ;  and  the 
apprehension  was  felt  that,  should  he  cross  the  Santee, 
his  power  might  be  re-established.  But  he  was  proba- 
yly  too  feeble  to  venture  so  boldly,  and  the  conjectures 
with  regard  to  Cornwallis  gradually  gave  way  to  other 
conclusions.  Active  measures  were  adopted  by  the  gov 
ernors  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina  to  arrest  his  flight 
to  the  south ;  and  a  movement  of  the  loyalists  in  North 
Carolina,  which  had  probably  been  inspirited  by  the 
reports  in  relation  to  Cornwallis,  had  been  suppressed  ; 
while  the  subsequent  evacuation  of  Wilmington  lessened 
the  apprehensions  of  the  whigs  of  that  neighborhood  in 
relation  to  the  future.  The  British  army,  meanwhile,  in 
South  Carolina,  had  taken  post  at  Fludd's  plantation  near 
Nelson's  ferry.  Its  strength  at  this  place,  increased  by 
reinforcements,  consisted  of  more  than  two  thousand  men, 
not  including  a  detachment  of  three  hundred  at  Fair- 
lawn  under  M' Arthur.  In  addition  to  this,  the  loyal 
ists  from  the  upper  country  had  been  enrolled,  either  in 
dependently  or  with  the  British  regiments,  and  formed  a 
considerable  addition  to  their  active  infantry.  Their  cav 
alry  had  now  become  superior  to  that  of  the  Americans, 
in  consequence  of  the  severe  handling,  which  the  latter 
had  received  recently ;  and  it  was  not  until  that  of  Sum- 
ter's  brigade  could  be  again  brought  together,  with  the 
wounded  infantry  of  Marion,  Horry,  and  Mayham,  that 
the  superiority  of  Greene  in  this  arm  could  be  restored. 
For  a  brief  period,  accordingly,  Major  Doyle,  who  had 
succeeded  temporarily  to  the  command  of  the  British 
force  on  the  Santee  —  Stuart  still  suffering  from  a  wound 
received  at  Eutaw  —  exercised  undivided  authority  over 
the  country  south  of  the  Santee  and  Congaree,  and  west 
of  the  Edisto.  He  made  hay  during  his  brief  period  of 


301  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

sunshine,  sweeping  off  with  greedy  hands  every  negro 
young  and  old,  that  he  could  possibly  gather  into  his 
clutches  in  this  extensive  territory.  The  presence  of 
Marion,  guarding  every  accessible  point  along  the  river, 
alone  arrested  him  in  his  paternal  desire  to  extend  the 
same  covering  arms  over  the  opposite  region.  To  protect 
the  country  as  well  as  he  could  with  his  light  troops,  was 
all  that  Greene  c:>uld  do.  He  had  no  force  with  which  to 
confront  that  of  the  enemy.  We  have  shown  his  condi 
tion  ten  days  after  the  battle  of  Eutaw. 

The  approach  of  winter  found  it  still  more  hazardous  and 
discouraging.  His  troops  were  wanting  the  absolute  neces 
saries  of  life  —  medicines  were  wanting — salt  had  failed. 
For  two  years,  the  southern  army  had  received  no  pay  — 
no  clothing  —  were  often  short  in  the  usual  allowance  of 
meat  and  bread,  and  commonly  subsisted  without  ardent 
spirits.  Symptoms  of  mutiny  were  actually  beginning 
to  show  themselves  in  camp,  and  a  victim  expiated  upon 
the  gallows  his  impatience  under  sufferings  which  had 
strictly  followed  the  failure  of  the  government  to  comply 
with  its  contracts.  Greene  could  only  sympathize  and 
weep  over  misfortunes  that  he  could  not  prevent.  He 
strove  to  soothe  the  sufferings  of  his  people  —  shared 
those  sufferings  —  was  early  and  late  engaged  in  the  work 
of  tendance  and  watching  —  now  in  the  ranks,  now  at 
the  hospitals,  encouraging  by  kind  offices,  entreating  with 
gentle  arguments,  and,  with  a  thousand  anxieties  mov 
ing  him  to  querulousness  and  impatience,  subduing  his 
own  discontents  that  he  might  soften  theirs.  The  supe 
rior  care  of  strengthening  his  army  against  the  enemy, 
and  in  becoming  employment,  was  necessarily  his  worst 
anxiety.  Yet,  in  this  work,  he  was  constantly  thwarted 
by  others  who  were  more  considerate  of  the  objects  un 
der  their  immediate  eyes,  than  of  those  which  were  re« 
mote,  however  vital  to  the  cause.  We  have  seen  how 


CONDITION    OP    THE    SOUTHERN    ARMY.  305 

email  had  been  the  regard  shown  ty  Congress  and  the 
north  to  the  army  of  the  south.  Greene  was  destined,  in 
nis  moment  of  greatest  necessity,  to  suffer  from  another 
proof  of  this  selfish  partiality.  It  was  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  time  of  service  of  the  Virginia  line  was  about 
to  expire,  with  not  a  single  recruit  from  that  state  on  the 
march  to  supply  its  place,  when  he  was  advised  that 
nis  reinforcements  from  Maryland  and  Delaware,  seven 
hundred  in  number,  had  been  arrested  and  embodied 
with  the  army  against  Cornwallis.  Yet  these  had 
been  regarded  as  absolutely  necessary  to  enable  him  to 
keep  the  field.  He  had  voluntarily  abandoned  to  Vir 
ginia  and  Lafayette  all  other  reinforcements.  Yet,  at 
this  very  time,  the  New  England  states  had  a  countless 
multitude  of  troops  on  paper,  myriads  if  we  may  believe 
the  chronicles,  and  there  was  actually  a  force  of  six 
thousand  Frenchmen  operating  with  the  army  of  Wash 
ington  and  Lafayette  against  this  very  force  of  Lord 
Cornwallis.  Well  might  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the 
southern  army  feel  themselves  abandoned,  if  not  sacrificed. 
"  Why  struggle  longer — they  have  abandoned  us  —  let 
us  yield  the  contest  —  let  us  retire."  "  Never,"  cried 
Greene  with  a  noble  constancy  of  purpose,  as  the  mur 
mur  reached  his  ears  : — "I  will  deliver  this  country  or 
perish  !"  He  was  willing  to  meet  all  the  peril,  to  make 
all  the  sacrifice,  to  continue  the  almost  hopeless-seeming 
struggle  to  the  last,  unsupported,  unassisted,  if  the  strug 
gle  and  the  endurance  were  necessary  for  the  safety  of 
the  country,  and  if  that  country  could  do  nothing  better 
for  the  cause.  And  yet  he  is  compelled  to  remark  in  a 
letter  to  Washington  — "  I  am  told  your  force  in  Vir 
ginia  amounts  to  little  less  than  fifteen  thousand  men  ; 
if  so  the  Maryland  troops  will  be  of  little  or  no  conse 
quence."  His  officers  and  men  were  not  equally  patient 
himself,  and  one  of  his  chief  labors  was  to  quiel 


306          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

them.     Fortunately,  one  of  his  subjects  of  anxiety 
soon  to  cease. 

On  the  9th  of  November,  the  grateful  intelligence 
reached  the  camp  of  the  fall  of  Yorktown  and  the  cap 
ture  of  Cornwallis,  an  event  which  had  taken  place  fully 
twenty  days  before.  The  day  was  observed  as  a  jubilee. 
All  punishments  were  remitted,  all  prisoners  discharged, 
and  the  few  luxuries  that  were  to  be  found  in  camp  were 
distributed  with  liberal  hand,  that  no  countenance  might 
remain  darkened  at  a  moment  when  the  occasion  was  so 
full  of  joy.  It  was  now  the  hope  of  Greene  that  the 
French  fleet  and  army  might  co-operate  with  him  in  an 
attempt  on  Charleston,  and  that  the  army  which  had  cap 
tured  Cornwallis  might  be  set  in  motion  for  the  south. 
But  the  co-operation  of  the  French  commander  could 
not  be  secured ;  and,  in  respect  to  the  northern  army, 
those  who  knew  with  what  difficulty  the  New  England 
troops  could  be  persuaded  to  approach  Yorktown,  could 
have  but  little  expectation  of  persuading  them  still  fur 
ther  south.  They  constituted  about  one  third  of  Wash 
ington's  army  ;  and  the  detachments  sent  to  Greene  were 
drawn  entirely  from  the  contingents  of  Maryland  and 
Pennsylvania.  These  were  confided  to  the  command  of 
General  St.  Clair  and  Wayne.  They  were  now  compelled, 
in  midwinter,  to  traverse  aweary  extent  of  territory,  and 
when  they  reached  the  camp  of  Greene,  which  they  did 
not  until  the  4th  of  January,  1782,  their  number  was  less 
by  one  half  than  when  it  crossed  the  Potomac. 

Advised,  however,  of  this  promised  reinforcement, 
upon  which  he  was  taught  to  build  largely,  Greene  felt 
the  necessity,  at  an  early  period  in  October,  of  resuming 
active  operations.  He  was  able,  during  this  month,  to 
replace  the  six-pounders  which  he  had  lost  at  the  Eutaws, 
and  was  joined  about  this  time  by  Colonels  Shelby  and 
Seviere  with  five  hundred  mountaineers;  a  detachment 


MOVEMENT    OF    THE    PARTISANS.  307 

of  one  hundred  and  sixty  North-Carolina  recruits  was 
also  added  to  his  infantry;  his  wounded  were  recovering 
and  able  to  take  their  place  in  the  ranks,  and  the  harvest 
being  in  and  the  cool  weather  beginning  to  prevail,  the 
several  commands  of  Sumter,  Marion,  and  the  other  parti 
sans,  had  been  collecting  around  their  favorite  leaders. 
The  army  once  more  began  to  assume  that  appear 
ance  of  strength  and  order  which  promised  usefulness 
and  demanded  employment.  Seviere  and  Shelby,  with 
Horry  and  Mayham,  were  placed  under  Marion,  whose 
scene  of  operations  was  the  country  between  the  Santee 
and  Charleston.  Together  they  formed  a  very  efficient 
command  of  cavalry,  mounted  infantry,  and  riflemen. 
Sumter,  with  his  brigade  of  state  troops,  and  some  com 
panies  from  his  own,  and  the  militia  brigades  of  Pickens, 
was  ordered  to  take  post  at  Orangeburg,  and  to  cover 
the  country  from  the  forays  of  the  loyalists  assembled  in 
Charleston.  Pickens,  with  two  regiments,  traversed  the 
mountain  frontiers,  checking  at  all  points  the  civil  war, 
which  ever  and  anon  flamed  up  in  that  quarter;  and  over 
awing  the  hostile  Indians  who  were  always  in  readiness 
to  rise. 

These  several  parties  soon  found  employment  and  were 
kept  watchful.  Sumter's  command  was  soon  tasked  to 
arrest  the  upward  progress  of  General  Cunningham,  with 
a  strong  body  of  seven  hundred  loyalists,  whose  aim  was 
to  regain  position  in  the  upper  country,  and  who,  gain 
ing  some  advantages  over  one  of  Sumter's  detachments, 
compelled  the  later  to  fall  back  to  a  position  of  greater 
security.  The  force  of  the  two  parties  being  nearly  equal, 
they  were  employed  for  awhile  as  checks  upon  each  other. 
Marion  was  also  brought  to  a  halt  by  encountering  Col 
onel  Stuart  at  Wan  toot  with  a  force  of  nearly  two  thou- 
fiand  men,  a  force  quite  too  great  to  be  attempted  by  a 
command  so  inferior  as  that  of  our  partisan.  Stuart's 


303  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

object  was  provisions  and  plunder.  Anticipating  the  siege 
of  Charleston,  naturally,  as  the  result  of  the  fall  of  York- 
town,  and  the  leisure  which  that  event  must  afford  to  the 
army  and  the  navy  of  the  French,  he  was  diligently  ac 
cumulating  supplies;  including,  in  this  category,  thousands 
of  slaves,  who  were  useful  in  the  laborious  work  of  forti 
fying  the  place,  and,  in  the  event  of  its  fall,  profitable  as 
plunder  in  the  West  India  markets.  The  British  were 
still  superior  to  the  Americans  in  number ;  but  the  moral 
of  their  army  had  been  greatly  impaired  by  recent  events. 
The  affair  at  the  Eutaws,  had  grievously  lessened  their 
enterprise,  while  it  had  shown  in  the  native  militia  an 
audacity  and  hardihood,  which  greatly  encouraged  their 
own,  and  the  hopes  of  their  leaders.  With  an  ample 
commissariat,  Greene  could  have  attempted  boldly ;  but 
the  very  shifts  to  which  his  necessities  reduced  him  were 
of  a  kind  to  impair  the  virtues  of  his  soldiers  and  to  les 
sen  their  efficiency  in  all  respects.  In  the  ordnance  and 
quartermaster's  departments  everything  was  wanting. 
There  was  no  ammunition — half  of  the  troops  were  with 
out  tents  —  there  were  no  axes,  few  camp-kettles,  and, 
until  this  period,  no  canteens.  Mere  valor,  courage, 
and  constancy,  in  the  soldiers,  were  of  little  avail  under 
these  deficiencies.  The  moral  sufficed  to  encourage  their 
general  in  a  bold  demonstration,  and  his  reliance  was 
rather  upon  this  moral,  and  upon  its  inferiority  in  the 
enemy,  than  upon  any  of  the  substantial  resources  by 
which  an  army's  victories  are  won.  But  it  was  useless 
to  repine  at  wants  which  no  complaining  could  supply; 
and  it  was  Greene's  hope  to  remedy,  by  energy  and  skill, 
the  defects  of  fortune.  On  the  18th  of  November,  the 
camp  on  the  hills  was  again  broken  up  and  the  army  set 
in  motion  for  below.  The  line  of  march  led  by  Simons' 
and  M'Cord's  ferries,  through  Orangeburg  to  Riddle- 
«purgers,  and  thence  by  the  Indian  Field  road  where 


RETREAT    OF    STUART.  309 

that  road  crosses  the  Edisto  to  Ferguson's  mill.  The 
design  of  Greene  was  to  take  post  on  the  Four  Holes, 
for  tne  twofold  purpose  of  covering  the  country  beyond 
him  and  controlling  the  operations  of  the  enemy  on  his 
right.  To  secure  the  army  in  this  progress,  Marion,  sup 
ported  by  Captain  Eggleston  with  the  legion,  strengthen 
ed  by  a  detachment  of  the  Virginia  line,  was  ordered  to 
keep  in  check  the  force  under  Stuart.  Without  this  se 
curity  on  his  left,  Greene  would  scarcely  have  ventured 
upon  a  position  so  much  exposed  to  an  attack  from 
Charleston.  But  Marion  was  suddenly  stripped  of  a  large 
portion  of  his  detachment  by  the  desertion  of  his  mount 
aineers,  to  whom,  at  this  moment,  the  employment  was 
not  sufficiently  active,  and  who,  becoming  discontented, 
had  gone  off  in  a  body.  This  was  a  loss  of  five  hundred 
men  at  a  moment's  warning,  and  after  a  service  of  three 
weeks,  in  which  Fairlawn  was  captured,  and  the  tributary 
posts  on  Cooper  river  disquieted  by  frequent  demonstra 
tion,  to  which  the  disappearance  of  the  mountaineers  put 
a  sudden  finish.  But  for  the  vast  proportion  on  the  sick 
list  of  the  British  troops  under  Stuart,  the  flight  of  the 
mountaineers  would  have  seriously  compromised  the  safe 
ty  of  Marion,  operating  as  he  did  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  post  which  the  former  occupied. 

Fortunately  for  Greene  and  Marion,  the  movement  of 
the  former  across  the  Congaree,  had  alarmed  the  British 
general  for  his  own  safety.  He  seems  not  to  have  sus 
pected  the  feebleness  of  the  one  or  the  difficulties  and 
deficiencies  of  the  other,  and  no  doubt  still  apprehended 
from  the  appearance  of  a  French  fleet  upon  the  coast. 
He  was  prompted  to  strike  his  tents  and  draw  off  toward 
Charleston.  This  movement,  evincing  a  complete  ignor 
ance  of  the  condition  of  the  Americans,  and  a  conscious 
ness  of  his  own  weakness,  encouraged  Greene  to  an  enter 
prise  which  was  calculated  to  confirm  all  the  false  impres* 


310          LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

sions  of  the  enemy,  and,  by  forcing  him  within  the  walls  of 
Charleston,  to  secure  possession  of  the  whole  country 
without  striking  a  blow.  This  was  an  important  object, 
as,  at  this  very  juncture,  Governor  Rutledge  was  about 
to  re-establish  the  American  authority  by  calling  the 
legislature  into  existence.  Proclamations  were  already 
issued  for  the  general  election  of  members. 

Confiding  the  army,  still  on  its  march,  to  the  care  of 
Colonel  Williams,  Greene  moved  briskly  forward  on  the 
route  to  Dorchester  at  the  head  of  four  hundred  men, 
cavalry  and  infantry.  The  cavalry  consisted  of  Lee's 
and  Washington's  commands,  and  a  hundred  men  from 
Sumter's.  The  infantry,  including  detachments  from 
the  lines  of  Maryland  and  Virginia,  was  that  of  the  legion. 
Greene  flattered  himself  with  the  hope  that,  in  addition 
to  his  other  objects, he  should  surprise  Dorchester.  For 
this  purpose  he  scattered  his  cavalry  abroad  with  the  view 
to  cut  off  intelligence,  covering  as  large  a  space  in  his 
front  as  possible.  With  the  same  object  he  pursued  dif 
ficult  -and  obscure  routes,  by  swamp  and  unsuspected 
paths,  wherever  these  could  be  found.  But,  in  spite  of 
these  precautions  and  the  celerity  of  his  movements,  the 
garrison  at  Dorchester  was  apprized  of  his  coming.  There 
were  too  many  lurking  tories  in  the  swamp  thickets, 
too  many  outlying  negroes,  who  knew  the  value  of  such 
intelligence,  not  to  seek  for  its  reward.  The  tidings  of 
his  approach  reached  the  British  twelve  hours  in  advance 
of  himself.  They  lay  on  their  arms  at  Dorchester  all  night, 
and,  on  the  next  morning,  despatched  a  reconnoitring 
party  of  fifty  loyalists  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  Colonel 
Hampton's  horse,  who  suffered  few  to  escape.  The  re 
port  of  the  fugitives,  brought  out  the  whole  body  of  the 
British  cavalry  at  the  post.  These  were  accompanied 
by  a  strong  detachment  of  infantry.  Hampton  soon  ap 
peared  and  darted  upon  this  force  consisting  chiefly  of 


ALARM    IN     THE     BRITISH    ARMY.  311 

loyalists.  They  shrunk  from  the  encounter  and  succeed 
ed  in  making  their  way  back  into  the  garrison ;  but  not 
without  losing,  killed,  wounded,  and  taken,  some  thirty 
of  their  number.  The  presence  of  the  commander  of 
the  American  army  at  once  inspired  the  garrison  with  a 
belief  that  his  whole  force  was  approaching.  With  this 
conviction,  they  destroyed  their  stores  that  night,  flung 
their  cannon  into  the  Ashley,  and  commenced  their  re 
treat  for  Charleston.  Destroying  a  contiguous  bridge  in 
their  flight,  they  arrested  the  pursuit  of  Greene,  who,  in 
deed,  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  press  it,  since  the  in 
fantry  of  the  enemy,  alone,  exceeded  five  hundred  in  num 
ber.  They  halted  at  the  Quarter-house,  less  than  six 
miles  from  Charleston,  where  they  were  joined  by  Colonel 
Stuart  with  his  command.  Here,  active  preparations 
were  begun  for  the  purpose  of  resisting  the  advance  of 
the  Americans.  Rumor  had  so  magnified  the  strength 
of  Greene,  that,  in  addition  to  the  regiments  which  could 
be  spared  from  the  garrison  at  Charleston,  the  British 
general  Leslie  proceeded  to  the  desperate  measure  of 
enrolling  and  arming  the  negroes.  They  were  stripped 
of  their  uniforms  as  soon  as  the  panic  was  at  rest. 

Greene  had  attained  his  object.  No  demonstration 
could  have  been  more  brilliant  or  more  successful.  His 
ruse  had  completely  deceived  the  enemy.  At  this  mo 
ment  when  Stuart  was  flying  before  him,  when  Leslie 
was  marshalling  into  line,  in  very  desperation,  his  sable 
regiments,  the  American  general  had  not  in  camp  eight 
hundred  men,  and,  after  supplying  with  ammunition  his 
different  detachments,  the  army  had  not  four  rounds  left 
to  a  man.  Well  had  he  deserved  the  applauses  which 
this  enterprise  procured  him.  Williams  writes  :  "  Your 
success  at  Dorchester  would  make  your  enemies  hate 
themselves,  if  all  circumstances  were  generally  known  • 
and  the  same  knowledge  would  make  your  friends  sd 


312  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

mire  the  adventure  even  more  than  they  do."  This  was 
the  sentiment  of  the  army.  General  Washington,  wri 
ting  to  Laurens  of  the  affair,  remarks:  "This  brilliant 
manoeuvre  is  another  proof  of  the  singular  abilities  which 
that  officer  [Greene]  possesses." 

On  the  7th  of  December,  Greene  rejoined  his  army 
which  had  taken  post  at  Sauriders'  plantation  on  the 
Round  O.  He  now  made  his  arrangements  for  keeping 
the  ground  which  he  had  won.  Marion,  advancing  still 
nearer  to  Charleston,  kept  the  right  of  the  enemy  in 
check  ;  Sumter,  occupied  Orangeburg  and  the  Four-Hole 
bridge ;  W.  Hampton  with  a  detachment  of  state  caval 
ry  kept  open  the  communication  with  Marion  ;  Colonels 
Harden  and  Wilkinson  watched  the  movements  of  the 
enemy  along  the  tract  of  country  lying  between  Charles 
ton  and  Savannah  ;  while  Lee,  in  command  of  the  light 
detachment,  posted  in  advance,  kept  him  from  prying  into 
the  real  weakness  of  the  American  army.  To  watch  and 
wait  was  all  that  could  be  done  at  present,  and  while 
the  ammunition  of  the  army  did  not  suffice  to  fill  the  car- 
touch-boxes  of  the  soldiers.  It  was  a  redeeming  circum 
stance  that  Greene  was  now  encamped  in  a  fertile  region 
where  rice  was  in  abundance,  and  where  the  ranges  for  cat 
tle  were  excellent.  Here  he  had  room  and  time  for  medi 
tation.  His  thoughts,  those  excepted  which  belonged  to 
a  consciousness  of  cares  firmly  borne  and  duties  faith 
fully  performed,  were  not  of  the  most  grateful  descrip 
tion.  His  reinfoi'cements  under  St.  Clair  and  Wayne 
had  not  yet  made  their  appearance,  and  advices  were 
received  of  a  British  fleet  from  Ireland,  with  three  thou 
sand  troops  on  board,  within  two  days'  sail  of  Charleston, 
to  be  followed  by  another  force  of  two  thousand  from 
New  York.  There  was  no  reason  to  discredit  this  in 
telligence  ;  and  Greene  at  once  felt  that  any  such  force 
in  his  present  circumstances,  would  expel  him  from  the 


GREE.N1:'S    REFLECTIONS    AT    ROUND    O.  313 

country.  His  labor  seemed  to  have  been  taken  in  vain. 
Again  the  necessity  rose  before  his  imagination,  for  the 
renewal  of  all  those  toilsome  marches  and  countermarches, 
those  anxious  days  and  nights,  and  weeks,  and  months, 
of  watch,  and  vigilance,  exposure,  trial,  suffering  ;  the 
defeat  of  hope,  the  mockery  of  expectation;  the  constant 
disappointment  of  cherished  anticipations,  and  the  as 
frequent  defeat  of  well-laid  schemes;  which  had  followed 
from  the  miserable  system  which  had  decreed  him  to  the 
manufacture  of  bricks  without  an  adequate  supply  of 
straw.  The  British  were  at  work  restoring  their  fortifi 
cations,  collecting  provisions,  organizing  the  loyalists,  in 
corporating  the  slaves  into  their  ranks,  preparing,  in  short, 
for  a  desperate  and  final  struggle,  which,  in  the  event  of 
their  expulsion  from  the  other  states,  would  leave  them 
secure  in  the  possession  of  Georgia  and  Carolina.  In 
the  presence  of  these  facts,  Greene  conceived  the  idea 
of  recruiting  his  regiments  with  negroes  also.  He  had 
witnessed  their  fidelity  to  their  masters,  their  patient  do 
cility,  and,  with  a  knowledge  of  their  capacity  for  physi 
cal  endurance,  as  well  of  the  climate  as  of  ordinary  labor, 
he  assumed  that  discipline  would  do  the  rest  in  convert 
ing  them  into  valuable  soldiers.  His  proposition  was 
submitted  to  the  governor  and  council  and  through  them 
to  the  legislature.  It  was  rejected  by  that  body,  and  the 
American  general  was  forced  to  cast  about  him  for  other 
means  of  encountering  his  enemy.  Fortunately,  his  mind 
was  soon  relieved  in  regard  to  these  reported  reinforce 
ments.  The  formidable  body  of  three  thousand  troops 
from  Ireland  was  diminished  to  some  sixty  artillerists ; 
while  the  force  from  New  York,  consisted  of  two  regi 
ments  with  a  squadron  of  dragoons  one  hundred  and 
fifty  in  number.  Greene  took  heart.  Though  disquiet 
ed  at  any  addition  to  the  enemy's  strength,  while  his  own 
14 


314          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

remained  as  feeble  as  before,  he  was  determined  to  main 
tain  his  ground  against  the  present  army  of  the  British. 
He  declared  himself  in  his  letters  resolved  to  fight,  and 
so  to  fight,  as,  if  beaten,  to  "  make  the  wounds  of  the  en 
emy  sufficient  to  prevent  his  pursuit.' 


CHANGE    OF    BRITISH    TACTICS. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

American  Attempt  on  the  British  Post  at  John's  Island. — Its  Failure. — 
Second  Attempt. — Withdrawal  of  the  Garrison. — The  Legislature  as 
sembles  at  Jacksonborough. — Its  Character. — Governor  Rutledge. — His 
Speech. — Compliments  Greene. — Address  of  the  Senate  and  House  of 
Representatives  to  Greene. — The  latter  Body  votes  him  Ten  Thousand 
Guineas. — Liberality  of  Georgia  and  North  Carolina. 

THE  drawn  battle  at  Eutaw,  in  spite  of  all  the  subse 
quent  struggles  of  the  British,  was  really  fatal  to  their 
power  in  Carolina.  It  broke  down  their  spirit,  dimin 
ished  their  resources,  discouraged  their  friends,  and,  in 
due  degree,  increased  the  energy  and  enthusiasm  of  their 
enemies.  From  this  period  the  real  endeavors  of  the 
British  leaders  and  their  tory  allies  seem  to  have  been 
addressed  to  the  acquisition  of  spoils.  Anticipating  the 
approaching  necessity  which  should  compel  them  to  aban 
don  the  pleasant  places  in  which  they  had  luxuriated  so 
long,  they  proceeded  to  "  borrow  from  the  Egyptians"  in 
a  style  less  courteous  than  that  which  the  Israelites  em 
ployed.  The  movement  of  Stuart  toward  the  Santee 
and  that  of  the  loyalists  about  the  same  time  toward  the 
upper  country,  were  designed  for  like  objects,  and  hence 
the  importance  of  the  demonstration  made  by  the  Amer 
ican  general,  in  his  rapid  progress  toward  Dorchester. 
The  effect  of  that  progress  was  to  arrest  the  spoiler  in 
his  employment  j  to  force  him  to  forego  the  further  hope 
of  plunder  in  the  region  which  he  then  occupied,  and  to 
hurry  below  with  his  sick  and  woundod,  crowding  them 
into  the  already  crowded  limits  of  the  city.  The  forces 


316  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

of  the  British  were  now  cooped  up  within  the  narrow 
limits  of  "the  Neck"  —  the  suburb  of  the  city  lying  be 
tween  the  rivers  Cooper  and  Ashley,  and  extending  some 
six  miles  only  into  the  country  —  and  the  islands  which 
lie  adjacent  to  the  metropolis.  Their  whole  army  had 
really  become  only  a  garrison  for  Charleston. 

To  diminish  this  area  by  all  possible  means,  Greene 
conceived  the  plan  of  expelling  them  from  John's  island, 
where  they  still  maintained  a  considerable  detachment 
under  Craig1.  This  measure  was  conceived  to  be  neces 
sary,  in  order  to  give  proper  security  to  the  legislature, 
now  about  to  assemble  at  Jacksonborough.  This  little 
village  lies  on  the  Edisto,  and  within  easy  striking  dis 
tance  from  the  island  in  question.  John's  island,  in  ad 
dition  to  the  detachment  under  Craig,  was  guarded  at 
every  accessible  point  by  galleys  carrying  guns  of  heavy 
calibre.  It  was  ascertained  that  there  was  one  point  of 
approach  to  the  island,  which,  at  certain  periods  of  the 
tide,  was  accessible.  Here,  at  low  water,  the  passage 
might  be  forded ;  and,  to  cover  this  point,  two  well- 
manned  galleys  had  been  stationed  within  four  hundred 
yards  of  each  other.  It  was  also  ascertained  that  the 
passage  was  not  watched  with  any  great  degree  of  vigi 
lance,  and  the  attempt  upon  the  island  was  confided  to 
Colonels  Lee  and  Laurens.  The  enterprise  was  one  of 
difficulty  and  peril,  and  the  movements  of  the  assailing 
party  were  required  to  be  made  at  night.  To  divert  the 
attention  of  the  enemy  from  the  real  point  of  attack,  the 
main  army  moved  on  the  12th  of  January,  1782,  on  the 
route  to  Wallace's  bridge.  Two  light  detachments,  mean 
while,  under  Laurens,  crossing  the  country  from  Ashley 
river,  headed  the  north  branch  of  the  Stono  on  the  night 
of  the  13th,  and  advanced  to  "  New-Cut,"  which  is  at 
the  head  of  the  south  branch.  The  main  army,  which 
had  halted  on  the  night  of  the  12th,  as  if  for  the  purpose 


ATTEMPT    ON    JOHN'S    ISLAND.  31*7 

of  encampment,  was,  however,  once  more  put  in  motion, 
soon  after  dark,  and,  following  the  route  of  the  light  de 
tachments,  with  the  view  to  supporting  them,  reached  the 
New-Cut  before  the  hour  of  low  water,  at  which  period 
only  is  the  ford  passable.  Here  Greene  found  his  at 
tacking  party  in  a  state  of  embarrassment.  This  select 
body  of  troops  had  been  separated  into  two  columns  on  tho 
march,  Lee's  column  being  in  advance,  arid  Laurens  in 
person  accompanying  it.  The  other  column  was  con 
fided  to  Major  Hamilton,  and,  not  moving  at  the  same 
time  with  the  former,  a  guide  had  been  left  with  it  to 
show  the  route.  No  mistake  was  apprehended,  but  the 
guide  disappeared  while  on  the  march,  having  probably 
lost  his  way,  and  being  ashamed  or  afraid  of  the  conse 
quences  of  his  error.  The  column  under  Laurens  was 
passed  over  to  the  island,  in  the  meanwhile,  in  perfect 
safety,  and  there  awaited  the  approach  of  that  under  Ham 
ilton.  It  was  not  in  sufficient  strength  to  attempt  the  assault 
without  the  support  of  its  associate,  Craig's  force  being 
well  posted,  numbering  five  hundred  men,  and  covered 
by  the  galleys,  which,  in  the  event  of  an  alarm,  could  ef 
fectually  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  assailants  and  prevent 
them  from  receiving  help  by  the  only  avenue  of  approach. 
And  this  avenue  was  about  to  be  closed.  The  tide  was 
now  rising,  and  nothing  had  been  done.  It  became  neces 
sary  to  recall  the  detachment  of  Laurens,  before  its  retreat 
should  be  cut  off,  and  the  order  to  this  effect,  delayed  to 
the  last  possible  moment,  was  at  length  reluctantly  given. 
The  tide  was  now  running  breast  high,  and  a  few  min 
utes'  longer  pause  would  have  compromised  the  safety 
of  the  party.  They  7'ecrossed,  vexed  and  disappointed, 
just  as  day  was  breaking,  and  had  scarcely  regained  the 
main  when  they  discovered  the  lost  column  straggling 
into  sight,  having  been  wandering  about  all  night  in  the 
vain  effort  to  resume  the  road  from  which  it  had  igno 


3i8  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

rantly  gone  astray.  The  annoyance  was  equally  great 
to  all  parties.  It  was  one  of  those  mischances,  however, 
which  occasion  no  reproach.  The  best  zeal  and  cour 
age  are  thus  sometimes  thrown  away,  through  ignorance 
or  want  of  fidelity  in  inferior  agents. 

But  the  object  was  quite  too  important  to  be  aban 
doned  without  another  effort.  The  garrison  might  be 
destroyed  ;  it  was  necessary  that  it  should  be  removed, 
and  there  were  spoils  of  value  to  be  acquired.  Here  the 
British  had  their  pastures,  and  a  large  number  of  cattle 
had  been  accumulated,  which  would  be  quite  as  useful 
to  an  American  as  a  British  commissariat.  Greene  re 
solved  on  forcing  his  passage  to  the  island.  A  boat  was 
brought  on  wagons,  and,  while  his  artillery  drove  the  gal 
leys  from  the  station  which  they  occupied,  was  launched 
by  a  party  under  Colonel  Laurens,  who  passed  over  to 
the  island.  He  penetrated  to  Craig's  encampment,  but 
the  bird  had  flown.  The  British  had  become  acquainted 
with  the  narrowness  of  their  escape  the  night  before,  and 
had  fled,  but  so  precipitately  as  to  leave  several  strag 
glers  ;  while  the  schooner  which  they  had  laden  with  their 
baggage,  and  a  hundred  invalids,  had  nearly  fallen  into 
Laurens's  hands.  Their  cattle  had  been  driven  across 
the  river  to  the  opposite  island,  or  were  scattered  in  the 
woods.  The  enterprise  had  been  only  in  part  successful. 
Carried  out  as  it  had  been  planned,  the  affair  would 
have  been  equally  brilliant  and  profitable.  Still,  the 
purpose  of  Greene  had  been  attained:  the  post  had  been 
wrested  from  the  enemy,  their  field  of  operations  circum 
scribed,  and  all  chances  of  peril  to  the  legislature,  during 
its  proposed  session,  from  any  sudden  enterprise  of  the 
British,  were  fairly  at  an  end. 

The  assembly  at  Jacksonborough  convened  on  the  18tl« 
of  January.  The  civil  authority  of  the  state  was  estab 
lished  under  the  protection  of  the  army.  For  that  mat- 


OPERATIONS    IN    GEORGIA.  31S 

ter,  it  was  as  much  a  military  as  a  civil  body,  the  mem 
bers,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  being  those  who  had  car 
ried  and  still  continued  to  carry  arms,  in  defence  of  the 
country.  Greene  took  post  with  the  army  at  Skirving's 
plantation,  six  miles  in  advance  of  Jacksonborough,  on  the 
road  leading  to  Charleston.  This  was  on  the  16th,  two 
days  before  the  opening  of  the  session.  He  had,  a  few  days 
before,  been  joined  by  the  long-expected  detachments  un 
der  St.  Clair  and  Wayne.  The  Virginia  line  had  been 
dismissed,  and  the  reinforcements  did  little  more  than  sup 
ply  their  place.  Believing,  however,  that  the  war  was 
virtually  at  an  end  in  South  Carolina,  and  that  its  close 
would  be  a  simple  act  of  withdrawal,  at  an  early  period, 
of  the  remains  of  the  British  power  from  the  country — 
assured,  at  all  events,  that,  with  the  force  which  he  pos 
sessed,  and  the  partisan  militia,  he  should  be  quite  able 
to  maintain  his  ground  against  the  present  strength  of  the 
British  within  the  state-— Greene  determined  to  direct 
his  attention  to  the  recovery  of  Georgia.  The  enemy  at 
this  time  possessed  no  foothold  in  the  interior  of  Georgia. 
His  possessions,  after  the  fall  of  Augusta,  had  been  chiefly 
confined  to  the  seaboard.  His  vessels  swept  the  coast 
from  Charleston  and  Savannah  to  St.  Augustine,  without 
impediment;  but  his  only  garrisoned  posts  in  the  coun 
try,  besides  Savannah,  were  at  Ebenezer  and  Ogeechee. 
Of  these  he  was  soon  dispossessed  by  the  partisan  militia 
under  Twiggs  and  Jackson ;  but  the  country  was  still 
traversed  by  armed  bands  of  tories,  and  parties  from 
Florida,  mixed  savages  and  whites.  To  strike  at  Savan 
nah,  which  was  the  centre  of  strength  and  energy  to 
these  wandering  parties,  and  to  disperse  these  parties 
also,  Greene  despatched  General  Wayne,  soon  after  his 
arrival  in  camp,  with  a  force  consisting  of  the  third  regi 
ment  of  dragoons  and  a  detachment  of  artillery.  He  was 
to  assume  command  of  the  American  army  in  Georgia 


320  LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GEEENE. 

Hampton's  cavalry  was  also  placed  at  his  disposal,  and 
the  militia  of  Carolina  along  the  Savannah  river,  under 
G-eneral  Barn  well,  were  ordered  to  co-operate  with  him 
whenever  called  upon.  It  was  impossible,  with  the  in 
feriority  of  his  own  army,  to  do  more  for  the  sister  state 
than  he  had  done.  He  was  considered  as  perilling  him 
self  and  the  legislature,  by  stripping  himself  of  these  de 
tachments  ;  the  more  particularly,  as  the  assembling  of 
this  body,  within  hearing  of  his  posts,  had  given  great 
offence  to  the  British  general,  who  only  waited  for  rein 
forcements  "  to  resent  the  insult  of  convening  the  legis 
lature  to  sit  and  deliberate  within  hearing  of  his  reveille." 
It  is  not  within  our  province  to  review  the  legislation 
of  this  assembly,  at  this  renewal  of  its  civil  obligations,  un 
der  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  we  find  it  placed. 
That  the  members  should  have  legislated  in  all  respects 
temperately  and  wisely  is  scarcely  to  be  expected  at  this" 
juncture,  laboring  as  they  did  under  a  thousand  excite 
ments  and  provocations,  and  fresh  from  the  army  with 
out  venturing  to  unbrace  the  sabre  from  the  side.  The 
convocation  of  this  body  had  become  necessary  for  the 
restoration  of  civil  order,  for  the  raising  of  supplies,  the 
organization  of  the  militia,  the  very  safety  of  the  army. 
It  was  necessary,  also,  with  regard  to  the  anticipated 
evacuation  of  the  city,  for  the  prevention  of  waste  and 
plunder.  For  two  years  the  government  of  the  state, 
where  the  country  was  not  in  the  grasp  of  the  enemy, 
had  been  solely  confided  to  the  individual  will  and  judf- 
ment  of  John  Rutledge,  its  governor.  Powers  had  been 
conferred  upon  him  to  see  that  the  republic  sustained  no 
harm.  The  large  discretion  thus  confided  to  this  remark 
able  man,  were  in  no  instance  abused  or  suffered  to  rust 
from  non-user.  He  had  traversed  the  country  at  all  pe 
riods,  in  all  difficulties,  shared  the  perils  and  fortunes 
of  the  army  for  many  months,  and  exercised  an  equal 


RESTORATION    OF    CIVIL    ORDER.  321 

constancy  and  ingenuity  in  enduring  privation  and  pro 
viding  against  emergency.  He  brought  to  the  necessi 
ties  of  the  army  the  sanction  of  the  civil  power,  and  rec 
onciled  to  many  of  the  extremities  of  martial  service  the 
high-spirited  and  impatient  volunteers,  who  are  but  too 
apt  to  suspect  the  military  arm  of  tyranny  and  injustice. 
To  restore  the  power  which  he  had  swayed  to  the  peo 
ple  from  whom  it  was  obtained  —  to  render  an  account  of 
his  administration — to  recall  the  exiles  to  their  homes 
—  to  encourage  them  with  hopes  of  peace  and  indepen 
dence —  to  organize  the  links  of  society  once  more  —  to 
bring  back  obedience  to  the  laws,  and  reconcile  with 
prosperity  and  order  those  liberties  for  which  all  the 
struggle  had  been  taken  —  was,  equally  with  Greene  and 
Rutledge,  a  duty  and  desire.  Their  responsibilities  had 
been  no  less  heavy  than  their  distinctions  had  been  high  ; 
and  it  was  with  feelings  of  equal  pride  and  relief  that 
they  welcomed  to  the  halls  of  council  the  citizens  who 
had  been  so  long  scattered  abroad  in  dismay  and  appro 
hension. 

The  long  interval  between  the  fall  of  Charleston,  in 
1780,  and  the  present  moment,  had  been  one  of  terrible 
vicissitudes  arid  the  most  humiliating  necessities.  The 
state  had  been  overborne  in  the  conflict;  their  regulai 
troops  cut  up  in  frequent  conflict,  and  finally  made  cap 
tive  ;  their  partisan  militia  still  maintaining  the  unequal 
conflict  whenever  the  odds  of  the  combat  would  allow, 
and,  under  favorite  leaders,  preserving  the  spirit  of  lib 
erty  and  a  determined  resistance,  without  other  motive 
than  the  love  of  country  ;  and  this  without  pay,  or  pro 
visions,  or  clothing,  or  any  supplies  needful  to  the  spirit 
as  well  as  the  strength  of  a  soldiery.  They  had  seen 
their  brethren  in  exile  and  captivity  —  wandering  as  fu 
gitives  in  swamp  and  thicket,  seeking  to  elude  tho  blood 
hounds  set  upon  their  path  by  the  conqueror,  or  crowded 
.  14* 


322  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

by  thousands  into  the  narrow  hold  of  the  prison-ship, 
sweltering  with  heat  and  pestilence,  and  perishing  of  the 
most  loathsome  diseases.  Armies  furnished  by  their  sis 
ter  states  of  the  south  had  been  cut  off  by  the  rashness 
of  their  generals ;  other  armies  had  been  barely  kept 
alive  and  in  safety  by  a  prudence  that  dared  venture 
nothing  in  the  inferiority  of  their  numbers,  and  in  the 
neglect  of  those  authorities  which  failed  to  provide  for 
the  necessities  of  their  starving  and  naked  regiments. 
But  courage  and  perseverance,  constancy  and  patriot 
ism,  had  at  length  succeeded  in  enduring  and  in  triumph 
ing  over  all.  The  bow  of  promise  was  arched  above  the 
land,  and  the  billows  of  invasion  were  slowly  but  cer 
tainly  receding  from  the  shores  on  every  side.  Well 
might  the  noble  partisan  lift  his  forehead  as  he  passed 
from  the  camp  to  the  council-board,  with  the  gratified 
sense  of  a  duty  well  performed  and  a  peril  nobly  defied 
and  undergone.  Nor  were  the  soldiers  who  met  on  this 
occasion,  to  restore  to  South  Carolina  the  aegis  of  law 
and  order,  merely  men  of  arms  and  blood,  stem  and  res 
olute,  with  wills  made  stubborn  by  habitual  authority,  and 
souls  set  only  on  its  retention  and  maintenance.  The 
body  which  assembled  at  Jacksonborough  were  men  sin 
gularly  distinguished  for  talent  and  moderation ;  they 
were  citizens  first  and  last  —  soldiers  only  under  the  exi 
gency  which  denied  that  they  should  be  citizens  of  a  free 
state.  No  people  could  have  assembled  in  better  spirit 
or  temper,  more  disposed  to  be  considerate  of  the  claims 
of  others,  or  more  indulgent  even  to  their  enemies.  That 
they  erred  in  one  respect  seems  to  be  admitted ;  but  we 
are  scarcely  in  the  situation  now  to  determine  of  the  ne 
cessities  which  at  that  period  compelled  men  to  put  on 
the  severe  aspects  of  resentment  and  indignation,  partic 
ularly  as  the  enemy  still  threatened  from  his  fortresses, 
End  still  the  outlawed  tory,  leagued  with  the  hireling  sav 


GOVERNOR'S  ADDRESS.  323 

age  to  desolate  the  frontier.  If  the  legislature  of  Jack- 
sonboroucrh  seemed  to  be  vindictive  in  one  of  its  meas- 

O 

ures,  we  are  not  to  forget  the  extent  of  its  provocation, 
and  the  dangers  which  still  beset  the  country,  and  ren 
dered  severity  to  some  the  source  of  security  to  others, 
who  might  otherwise  have  provoked  punishment  by  pre 
suming  on  indulgence. 

The  governor,  in  his  opening  address  —  a  masterly 
performance,  which  reviewed  the  history  of  the  interim 
with  a  comprehensive  and  impartial  judgment  —  conclu 
ded  with  a  high  eulogium  upon  the  conduct  of  Greene 
and  the  troops  under  him.  "  I  can  now,"  said  he,  "  con 
gratulate  you,  and  I  do  so  cordially,  in  the  pleasing  change 
of  affairs,  which,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  the  wisdom., 
prudence,  address,  and  bravery,  of  the  great  and  gallant 
General  Greene,  and  the  intrepidity  of  the  officers  and 
men  under  his  command,  has  been  happily  effected."  He 
urged  the  claims  of  Greene  "  to  honorable  and  singular 
marks  of  our  approbation  and  gratitude."  —  "His  suc 
cesses,"  continued  the  orator,  "  have  been  more  rapid 
and  complete  than  the  most  sanguine  could  have  ex 
pected.  The  enemy,  compelled  to  surrender  or  evacu 
ate  every  post  which  they  held  in  the  country,  frequently 
defeated  and  driven  from  place  to  place,  are  obliged  now 
to  seek  refuge  under  the  walls  of  Charleston  and  on  the 
islands  in  its  vicinity.  We  have  now  full  and  absolute 
possession  of  every  part  of  the  state;  and  the  legislative, 
judicial,  and  executive  powers  are  in  the  free  exercise 
of  their  respective  authorities." 

The  tone  and  spirit  of  the  governor's  eulogy  on  Greene 
were  met  by  a  corresponding  sentiment  on  the  part  of 
both  houses  of  the  legislature.  They  expressed  them 
selves  in  terms  of  equal  praise  arid  gratitude.  The  sen- 
o.te  declared  itself  "  impressed  with  a  high  sense  of  the 
eminent  services"  which  he  had  rendered  to  the  country, 


324  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

and  unanimously  voted  him  their  thanks,  in  behalf  of  the 
state,  "  for  the  distinguished  zeal  and  generalship  which 
he  had  displayed  on  every  occasion,  particularly  during 
the  last  campaign."  They  expressed  themselves  sensi 
ble  of  the  many  disadvantages  under  which  he  took  com 
mand  of  the  army  ;  and  that  it  was  to  his  "  superior  mili 
tary  genius  and  enterprising  spirit  were  to  be  attributed 
the  blessings"  which  their  people  now  enjoyed  —  the  res 
toration  of  their  country,  and  the  securities  of  a  free  con 
stitution.  The  house  expressed  itself  in  like  manner,  but 
gave  an  additional  proof  of  its  gratitude  by  originating  a 
bill  "for  vesting  in  General  Nathanael  Greene,  in  con 
sideration  of  his  important  services,  the  sum  of  ten  thou 
sand  guineas."  This  liberality  was  of  great  importance 
to  Greene.  He  was  poor.  He  had  left  the  smithy  for 
the  camp.  His  paternal  property,  originally  small,  had 
not  improved  in  value  during  his  absence,  and,  in  fact, 
his  private  resources  had  been  consumed  by  the  exigen 
cies  of  hi?j  public  station.  He  was  probably,  when  this 
grant  was  made,  not  worth  a  copper  in  the  world.  The 
gift  of  South  Carolina,  the  spontaneous  acknowledgment 
of  her  gratitude  for  his  services  and  sacrifices  in  her  cause, 
came  to  him  at  a  seasonable  moment,  to  lighten  his  heart 
of  its  anxieties,  and  relieve  him  of  the  harassing  doubts 
which  prompted  him  continually  to  inquire  of  himself, 
from  what  quarter,  the  war  being  over,  should  he  find 
the  means  to  support  a  large  and  growing  family.  But 
the  liberality  of  South  Carolina  was  fruitful  of  other 
and  similar  results.  It  furnished  the  proper  example  to 
Georgia  and  North  Carolina.  These  states  were  not  to 
be  outdone,  though  anticipated,  in  generosity.  The  foi- 
raer  voted  t:>  him  five  thousand  guineas,  and  the  lattei 
twenty-foir  thousand  acres  of  land. 


WAYNE    IN    GEORGIA. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

The  State  of  the  Army. — Wayne's  Victories  in  Georgia. — Discontents 
among  tho  Troops  of  Greene. — Treachery  of  Soldiers  of  the  Pennsylva 
nia  Line. — Their  Detection  and  Punishment. — Continued  Distress  and 
Sickness  of  the  Army. — Movements  of  the  British. — Marion  defeats 
Fraser. — Affair  on  the  Comhahee. — Death  of  Laurens. — Pickens  punishes 
the  Tories  and  the  Indians. 

LEAVING  the  legislature  free  to  pursue  its  delibera 
tions,  and  heedful  only  to  make  it  secure  while  doing  so, 
Greene  continued  to  watch  his  enemy  with  a  patient  anx 
iety  that  suffered  nothing  of  consequence  to  escape  his 
attention.  The  British  afforded  him  very  few  opportu 
nities  for  enterprise.  His  resources  were  quite  too  small 
to  suffer  him  to  attempt  anything  of  magnitude,  arid  they 
gave  him  but  few  provocations  to  activity  in  minor  mat 
ters.  They  no  longer  exhibited  that  impatient  desire  for 
performance  which  had  marked  their  character  in  the 
previous  campaign,  and  their  endeavors  were  confined 
to  small  predatory  incursions,  for  the  collection  of  plun 
der  or  provisions.  The  war  was  really  transferred  to 
Georgia.  Here  Wayne  was  acquiring  laurels  daily,  pres 
sing  the  enemy  on  every  hand,  cutting  off  his  supplies, 
and  sweeping  the  loyalists  from  before  his  face  with  an 
unsparing  besom.  In  a  little  while  the  British  were  con 
fined  entirely  within  the  precincts  of  Savannah  ;  and  the 
Georgians,  following  the  example  of  South  Carolina,  re- 
oiganized  their  legislative  assembly  at  Ebenezer,  within 
hearing  of  the  British  reveille  at  Savannah,  and  under  the 
protection  of  the  American  army.  The  result  of  Wayne'* 


3^0  LIFE    OP    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

activity  was  shortly  to  compel  the  evacuation  of  Savan 
nah,  an  event  which  increased  the  number  of  Greene's 
enemies  in  Charleston,  since  the  garrison  of  the  former 
city,  nearly  a  thousand  men,  was  transferred  to  the  latter. 
This  event  rendered  necessary  the  return  of  Wayne's 
tronps  to  South  Carolina,  where,  during  the  progress  of 
events  in  Georgia,  affairs  had  begun  to  assume  a  less  en 
couraging  aspect.  A  variety  of  unfortunate  incidents, 
which  may  all  be  traced  to  the  positive  weakness  of  the 
army  in  Carolina,  had  subjected  Marion's  command,  in 
the  absence  of  that  general  at  headquarters,  or  in  attend 
ing  on  the  legislature,  to  some  vexatious  reverses ;  the 
result  of  which  was,  to  lay  open  the  whole  country  from 
the  Edisto  to  the  Santee  to  the  incursions  of  the  enemy. 
This  region  of  country  had  been  confided  to  the  keeping 
of  Marion's  brigade.  In  Marion's  absence,  the  brigade 
was  under  the  command  of  Horry.  A  question  of  rank 
between  this  gentleman  and  Colonel  Mayham,  who  was 
ranked  by  Horry,  led  to  the  absence  of  that  cordial  co 
operation  between  the  two  which  alone  could  insure  the 
usefulness  of  the  command.  Before  this  quarrel  could 
be  settled,  the  British  had  obtained  several  slight  suc 
cesses  over  some  of  the  parties  of  the  brigade,  and  finally 
in  Mayham's  absence  with  his  horse,  the  brigade  itself 
was  surprised  and  dispersed  at  Wambaw,  by  a  sudden 
movement  from  Charleston,  up  Cooper  river,  of  a  strong 
detachment  of  horse,  foot,  and  artillery,  under  Colonel 
Thomson,  afterward  the  celebrated  Count  Rumford.  A 
subsequent  attempt  upon  the  cavalry  of  this  detachment, 
made  by  Mayham's  horse,  under  the  lead  of  Marion,  was 
wholly  unsuccessful,  arising  from  an  unhappy  error  of 
the  officer  who  led  his  column  to  the  charge.  Marion's 
force  was  thus  temporarily  dispersed,  with  a  serious  loss 
in  arms  and  horses.  His  presence,  however,  sufficed  to 
bring  them  once  more  around  him  in  considerable  num* 


LAW    PROHIBITING    IMPRESSMENTS.  327 

bers,  and  to  restore  confidence  among  them.  The  ap 
proach  of  Colonel  Laurens  to  his  assistance,  with  a  de 
tachment  from  the  army,  soon  compelled  the  British  to 
retire,  with  the  stock  and  provisions  which  they  had  been 
able  to  procure,  and  which,  quite  as  much  as  the  attempt 
on  the  brigade,  had  been  the  object  of  the  expedition. 
General  Leslie,  indeed,  had  begun  to  be  exceedingly 
straitened  in  Charleston  by  the  cordon  which  had  sepa 
rated  him  from  the  country.  He  had  been  already  com 
pelled  to  butcher  the  horses  of  a  large  portion  of  his  cav 
alry,  which  he  was  no  longer  in  the  condition  to  feed  ;  and 
his  enterprises  were  scarcely  prompted  by  any  object  more 
inspiring  than  that  of  a  present  necessity.  There  was 
no  longer,  indeed,  a  motive  for  enterprise,  beyond  the 
support  of  the  garrison.  The  British  ministry  were  evi 
dently  about  to  forego  a  contest  of  which  their  people  were 
heartily  tired.  The  approach  of  peace  was  scarcely  to 
be  doubted,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  Leslie's  instruc 
tions  were  to  economize  his  strength  and  resources,  and 
peril  nothing  further  in  a  conflict  in  which  the  hope  of 
triumph  was  at  an  end.  An  occasional  foraging  party 
issued  from  the  garrison  of  Charleston,  and,  having 
snatched  up  its  prey,  hurried  back  to  the  shelter  of  their 
lines  with  a  rapidity  which  mostly  mocked  pursuit. 

The  winter  wore  away  in  this  manner.  The  legisla 
ture  of  South  Carolina,  meanwhile,  had  adjourned.  John 
Mathews  had  been  elected  a  governor  in  place  of  Rut- 
ledge,  who  retired.  Mathews  was  friendly  to  Greene 
and  to  the  army ;  and  so,  indeed,  were  most  of  the  mem 
bers  composing  the  assembly.  It  was  not,  therefore,  with 
any  wish  to  embarrass  the  operations  of  the  army,  that  a 
law  was  passed  prohibiting  impressments.  This  put  an 
end  to  foraging.  To  provide  the  army  with  all  necessa- 
ry  supplies,  the  governor  was  empowered  to  take  order. 
A  law  was  enacted  requiring  that  he  should,  from  time 


328  ^IPE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

to  time,  appoint  a  sufficient  number  of  fit  and  proper 
persons,  in  different  parts  of  the  state,  as  agents  or  com 
missioners,  to  procure  their  supplies.  All  other  persons 
were  strictly  forbidden  to  do  so.  It  was  no  doubt  ne 
cessary  to  arrest  the  unlicensed  foraging,  which  but  too 
much  prevailed,  under  the  alleged  necessities  of  the  army, 
to  the  distress  and  impoverishment  of  the  country.  But 
the  support  of  the  army  was  thus  made  to  depend  up 
on  commissioners  appointed  by  another  authority  than 
that  which  could  determine  upon  its  wants,  and  who, 
if  incompetent  to  perform  their  duties,  could  only  be 
removed  by  the  appointing  power.  Meanwhile,  the  sol 
diers  had  no  means  of  procuring  supplies.  If  the  com 
missioner  failed  them,  they  must  starve  and  suffer.  The 
commissioner  did  fail  them.  In  a  little  time  the  army 
was  in  great  distress.  The  troops  were  frequently  with 
out  provisions.  Greene  remonstrated  with  the  governor, 
but  could  not  shake  his  confidence  in  the  person  he  em 
ployed.  The  army  continued  to  suffer,  soothed  by  en 
treaties  and  occasional  full  supplies,  or  subdued  by  se 
verities,  which  their  impatient  discontents  seemed  to 
provoke.  They  could  plead,  in  mitigation  of  their  of 
fences,  the  extremity  of  their  wants.  Their  nakedness 
and  wretchedness  might  well  excuse  their  excitements. 
A  very  large  proportion  of  them  were  actually  without 
clothes.  The  tattered  fragments  were  kept  together  by 
thorns  of  the  locust,  their  substitute  for  pins  and  needles  ; 
and  happy  was  the  wretch  who  could  piece  his  rags  with 
the  refuse  of  others,  better  clad,  which  his  better  fortune 
threw  in  his  way.  The  old  troops  of  Greene  bore  up 
bravely  under  their  privations,  but  the  additions  to  his 
•irmy,  brought  by  St.  Clair,  were  not  calculated  to  im 
prove  its  morale.  The  Pennsylvania  line  was  composed 
of  the  very  mutineers  who  had  triumphed  over  govern- 
ment  in  the  Jersey  insurrection.  There  was  in  it,  in- 


ARMY    ENCAMPED    AT    BACON'S    BRIDGE.  329 

deed,  one  of  the  sergeants  who  had  been  put  in  com 
mand  of  the  regiments  in  that  mutiny,  with  a  number  of 
others  of  like  character  who  had  deserted  from  the  Brit 
ish  while  he  had  possession  of  Philadelphia.  These 
wretches  were  ripe  for  any  mischief,  and  they  were  suffi 
ciently  practised  to  refine  upon  it.  The  soldiers,  brought 
to  the  verge  of  mutiny  before  their  arrival,  by  their  dis 
tress  and  misery,  were  not  helped  by  their  connexion. 
We  shall  shortly  see  the  fruits  of  it. 

With  the  adjournment  of  the  legislature,  the  army  of 
Greene  moved  from  Skirving's  down  to  Bacon's  bridge, 
on  Ashley  river.  Here  he  was  within  twenty  miles  of 
the  enemy,  within  striking  distance,  and  accessible  by 
land  and  water.  His  securities  from  any  enterprise  of 
the  British  lay  in  the  latter's  sluggishness  and  his  own  cau 
tion  rather  than  Greene's  strength.  He  was  yet  to  appre 
ciate  the  element  of  mischief,  within  his  own  camp,  of 
which  he  had  certainly  made  no  calculation  while  esti 
mating  his  securities.  But,  with  the  opening  of  spring, 
it  became  obvious  that  a  new  life  was  beginning  to  pre 
vail  in  the  Charleston  garrison.  Greene  was  well  pro 
vided  with  spies  in  that  city,  some  of  whom,  indeed,  were 
persons  of  no  small  notoriety.  The  vigilance  of  Marion 
had  made  this  provision,  and  his  judgment  of  character 
had  secured  him  against  deception.  These  were  now 
busier  than  ever,  since  there  was  much  to  report,  the  se 
cret  of  which  they  could  not  wholly  fathom.  A  new 
spirit  was  evidently  at  work  in  the  British  army,  signifi 
cant  of  objects  of  importance  which  could  not  yet  be  con 
jectured.  Designs  were  on  foot  upon  which  large  cal 
culations  were  founded.  There  was  an  organization  of 
troops,  mostly  picked  men,  under  ^select  officers.  The 
note  of  preparation  was  sounded  keenly,  though  in  sub« 
dued  accents,  and  all  things  betokened  an  enterprise  on 
foot  which  showed  that,  if  compelled  to  give  up  their 


330  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GEEENE. 

conquests,  the  British  were  not  unwilling  to  crown  the 
humiliating  necessity  by  some  redeeming  and  orilliant 
performance. 

These  movements  were  all  conveyed  to  Greene.  He 
readily  conjectured  their  import.  He  was  sensible  equally 
of  the  condition  of  his  army,  and  of  the  demoralizing 
influence  which  had  been  at  work,  for  some  time,  to  im 
pair  its  usefulness  and  inciease  its  discontents.  He  was 
by  no  means  ignorant  of  the  refuse  character  of  a  con 
siderable  portion  of  his  late  reinforcements.  Besides,  he 
was  no  longer  surrounded  by  those  veteran  troops  who 
had  traversed  with  him,  in  weary  march  and  counter 
march,  the  wildernesses  of  North  Carolina  —  who  had 
fought  with  him  at  Guilford,  at  Hobkirk's,  and  at  Eu- 
taw.  His  well-tried  officers  were  with  him  no  longer. 
Williams  had  returned  to  Maryland  ;  Howard  still  suf 
fered  from  his  wounds  ;  Wayne  was  still  gathering  lau 
rels  in  Georgia  ;  St.  Clair  had  obtained  leave  of  absence  ; 
the  partisans  were  all  operating  in  detachments  ;  Marion 
on  the  left ;  Pickens  among  the  Indians,  while  Sumter 
had  retired  in  disgust.  The  legion  of  Lee  was  almost 
stripped  of  its  officers,  Lee  himself  having  retired,  like 
Sumter,  in  disgust  and  dissatisfaction. 

Greene  felt  his  danger  from  his  deficiencies.  These, 
at  once,  led  him  to  suspect  the  source  and  secret  of  his 
danger,  and  of  the  enemy's  projected  enterprise.  His 
fears  were  still  more  enlivened  by  the  discontents  and 
bickerings  among  many  of  his  remaining  officers.  Re 
viewing  his  condition,  the  materials  of  his  army,  its  ne 
cessities  and  discontents,  and  the  various  signs  which 
could  not  entirely  escape  him,  his  quick  instincts  asso 
ciated  the  designs  of  the  British  with  the  discontents 
among  his  troops.  But  how  these  were  to  operate,  he 
had  no  knowledge.  He  could  only  renew  his  diligence, 
his  watch,  his  circumspection,  and  put  in  exercise  all  the 


MUTINY    OF    THE    PENNSYLVANIA    LINE.  331 

agents  upon  which  he  could  rely  for  security  against  mis 
hap.  Meanwhile,  treason  was  busy  in  his  camp.  His 
Pennsylvania  mutineers,  such  as  had  been  conspicuous 
in  Jersey,  had  opened  a  communication  with  the  enemy. 
Their  discontents  were  known  to  the  British,  and  their 
promises  and  demands  were  heard  with  greedy  attention. 
They  were  to  sell  Greene  and  his  army  —  what  the  price 
and  what  the  process,  have  never  been  accurately  known 
—  and  the  object  was  quite  too  important  to  the  desper 
ate  cause  of  the  invader  to  make  him  scruple  at  the 
scheme,  or  the  conditions  upon  which  it  was  to  be  pros 
ecuted.  Sergeant  Gornell  was  at  the  head  of  the.  con 
spiracy.  He  had  entered  upon  it  with  equal  skill  and 
secrecy.  He  seems  to  have  been  an  adept  in  the  busi 
ness,  and  his  plans  were  almost  matured  for  execution. 
A  day  was  fixed  upon  when  a  mutinous  demonstration 
of  the  Pennsylvanians  was  to  be  covered  and  counte 
nanced  by  the  sudden  appearance,  in  force,  of  the  British 
army.  We  have  seen  that  the  preparations  of  the  latter 
were  of  a  nature  to  render  the  scheme  successful,  should 
it  once  be  permitted  to  attain  full  ripeness  in  the  Ameri 
can  camp. 

Fortunately,  it  was  destined  that  such  should  not  be 
the  case.  The  conspirators  had  grown  insolent  from  im 
punity,  and,  in  degree  as  they  became  confident  of  suc 
cess,  they  grew  careless  of  the  means  of  security.  Their 
mutinous  language  reached  the  ears  of  their  superiors 
and  increased  their  vigilance.  An  attempt  to  work  upon 
the  fidelity  of  the  Maryland  line,  was  the  first  clue  to 
their  secret  machinations,  and  the  keen  ears  of  a  woman, 
one  of  the  followers  of  the  camp,  arrived  at  other  clues, 
which  conducted  to  the  conspiracy.  This  was  all  that 
was  required  to  enable  justice  to  decide  upon  her  vic 
tims.  The  vigilant  eyes  of  Greene  had  already  fastened 
upon  the  doubtful  persons,  and  his  prompt  decision  an«? 


'332          LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

becoming  rigor  strangled  the  treason  on  the  eve  of  exe 
cution.  Putting  his  most  trusted  troops  in  order  for  the 
enemy,  he  sent  a  despatch  to  Marion  to  hasten  to  the 
camp  with  all  the  force  that  he  could  muster,  and,  at  the 
same  moment,  the  hand  of  arrest  was  laid  upon  the  con 
spirators.  Gornell,  and  several  others,  were  brought 
before  a  court-martial  and  tried  for  their  crimes.  The 
former  was  condemned  and  executed.  Four  other  ser 
geants  of  the  same  line  were  sent  under  a  strong  guard 
into  the  interior,  and  twelve  soldiers  broke  away  that 
night,  apprehending  arrest,  and  made  their  escape  to  the 
enemy.  Almost  simultaneously  with  these  events,  the 
British  horse  made  their  appearance,  hovering  about  the 
outposts  of  the  American  camp.  They  succeeded  in 
capturing  ten  of  the  legion  cavalry,  which  unexpectedly 
encountered  them;  but  they  failed  utterly  in  securing 
the  contemplated  and  more  important  prey.  The  great 
preparations  of  General  Leslie  came  to  nought,  and  his 
detachment  sunk  back  once  more  under  cover  of  the  me 
tropolis.  Nothing  accrued  to  him  from  this  deep  and 
well-planned  conspiracy,  which  was  effectually  crushed 
by  the  blow  which  fell  upon  the  offender  at  the  proper 
moment.  The  mutinous  temper  ceased  among  the 
troops,  though  their  causes  for  complaint  were  by  no 
means  lessened.  Their  wants  were  still  of  a  kind  which 
we  must  suppose  could  only  have  been  borne  by  those 
whose  crude  virtues  were  sustained  by  a  spirit  very  far 
superior  to  that  which  belongs  to  fear.  Still  were  they 
compelled  to  suffer  the  want  of  adequate  food  and  cloth 
ing,  and  as  the  sultry  heats  of  summer  began  to  prevail, 
their  distress  was  aggravated  by  the  diseases  of  the  cli 
mate  which  now  rapidly  began  to  spread  through  the 
camp.  This  was  unavoidably  transferred  to  a  sickly  re 
gion.  As  the  necessities  of  the  service  required,  Greene 
gradually  drew  nigher  to  the  metropolis.  In  April  he 


SICKNESS    IN    CAMP    AT    ASHLEY    HILL.  33o 

nad  moved  from  Bacon's  bridge  to  Beach  Hill,  a  distance 
of  but  seventeen  miles  from  Charleston.  In  July  we 
find  the  army  at  Ashley  hill,  and  still  nearer  to  the  Brit 
ish  garrison.  This  position,  which  favored  the  objects 
of  the  campaign,  was  yet  in  the  very  heart  of  the  malaria 
influence.  Here  the  rich  swamps  and  teeming  fields  in 
which  the  rice  crop  flourished,  assailed  with  deadly  en 
mity  the  more  delicate  organization  of  the  white  man, 
and  with  every  breath  he  imbibed  the  subtle  poison  of 
an  atmosphere  in  which  the  African  alone  could  luxu 
riate  in  safety.  Yet  here,  amid  severest  suffering,  the 
army  remained  throughout  the  summer.  The  camp  be 
came  a  hospital.  Greene  himself  was  prostrated  by  the 
fever,  as  well  as  most  of  his  officers  and  men  in  turn,  and 
all  of  them  agreed  that  a  conflict  with  thrice  the  number 
of  their  foes,  in  open  field,  under  the  worst  circum 
stances,  was  infinitely  preferable  at  any  time  to  the  hu 
miliating  and  exhausting  struggle  with  a  danger  to  which 
no  courage  or  strength  could  offer  itself  without  discom 
fiture,  and  which  no  degree  of  caution  could  escape. 

But  the  partisan  militia  were  not  allowed  to  remain 
with  G-reene  during  this  season  of  sickness  and  prostration. 
Marion,  about  the  middle  of  July,  having  consolidated 
his  regiments,  was  enabled  to  cross  the  Santee,  and  take 
post  on  the  Wassamasaw,  another  region  equally  liable  to 
the  pernicious  malaria  influences  of  the  low  country. 
Here,  his  employment  was  to  cover  the  country,  and  co 
operate,  when  necessary,  with  the  main  army.  But  the 
increase  of  strength  which  General  Leslie  had  acquired 
by  the  transfer  of  the  garrison  of  Georgia  to  the  metrop 
olis,  now  enabled  the  latter  to  assume  an  aspect  of  greater 
activity.  He  proceeded  to  arm  a  numerous  fleet  of  smal* 
vessels,  with  a  strong  body  of  troops.  These,  convoyed 
by  galleys  and  brigs-of-war,  issued  from  Charleston,  <!es* 
lined,  as  it  was  thought,  to  operate  against  Georgetown 


3o4  LIFE    OF    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

To  this  place  Marion  was  accordingly  ordered.  But  the 
enterprise  of  the  enemy  took  another  direction.  Their 
object  was  plunder  and  provisions.  They  penetrated 
the  south  Santee  with  this  object,  and  gleaned  largely 
from  the  rice  along  the  banks  of  that  river.  Marion, 
meanwhile,  had  rapidly  thrown  his  cavalry  across  the 
Sampit,  so  as  to  intercept  them  in  their  anticipated  march 
to  Georgetown,  the  public  stores  and  provisions  of  which 
he  proceeded  to  place  in  security.  He  had  left  behind 
him  a  small  body  of  infantry  at  Watboo,  which,  as  his 
absence  with  the  cavalry  was  known,  attracted  the  atten 
tion  of  the  British.  But  the  famous  partisan  was  not  un 
mindful  of  his  flock.  The  enemy  did  not  make  sufficient 
allowance  for  the  rapidity  of  his  movements.  He  was 
back  among  his  infantry,  in  waiting  for  their  approach, 
while  they  thought  him  busy  on  the  Santee.  Attacked 
by  Major  Frazier,  early  on  the  29th  of  August,  at  Wat- 
boo,  he  totally  discomfited  him  in  a  brief  conflict,  in 
which  the  British  suffered  severely.  They  were  only 
saved  from  the  rapid  pursuit  of  Marion's  horse,  by  the 
timely  appearance  of  a  strong  detachment  of  infantry, 
before  which  Marion  himself  was  compelled  to  retire. 

Another  detachment  of  the  British  foraging  fleet  was 
sent  to  penetrate  the  Combahee.  General  Gist,  with  his 
light  brigade,  was  ordered  to  cover  the  plantations  in  this 
quarter.  It  was  while  in  commaiid  of  a  detachment  of 
this  brigade,  that  the  gallant  Colonel  Laurens,  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  arid  highly  endowed  of  the  young 
men  of  the  Revolution,  met  his  death.  Hearing  of  the 
British  movement,  and  of  the  duties  assigned  to  the 
light  brigade  to  which  he  was  attached,  ne  rose  from  a 
sick  bed,  on  which  he  was  scarcely  convalescent,  and  hur 
rying,  away  to  the  southward,  succeeded  in  overtaking 
the  brigade  which  was  already  on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Combahee  river.  At  the  head  of  a  command  which  he 


DEATH    OF    LAURENS.  335 

had  eagerly  solicited,  he  fell  at  the  first  fire,  while  char* 
ging  a  superior  force  of  the  enemy,  in  a  skirmish  which 
took  place  at  Chehaw  point ;  an  event  which  could  not 
have  happened  had  the  despatch  which  Gist  sent  to  ap 
prize  him  of  the  unexpected  superiority  of  the  British 
detachment,  not  failed  to  reach  him  in  proper  season, 
Greene  deeply  lamented  the  fall  of  this  brave  young 
man,  who  has  received  the  title  of  the  "Bayard  of  the 
Revolution."  He  writes  to  General  Williams  :  "  Lau- 
rens  has  fallen  in  a  paltry  little  skirmish.  You  knew  his 
temper,  and  I  predicted  his  fate.  The  love  of  military 
glory  made  him  seek  it  upon  occasions  unworthy  his  rank. 
This  state  will  feel  his  loss." 

This  precious  life  might  have  been  saved.  The  petty 
skirmish  in  which  he  fell  was  the  closing  of  the  struggle. 
The  evacuation  of  the  state  was  already  determined  upon 
by  the  invader.  A  convoying  fleet  had  already  arrived 
in  Charleston  for  the  purpose  of  covering  the  evacua 
tion  and  receiving  their  troops.  The  expedition  to  Com* 
bahee  had  for  its  sole  object  the  accumulation  of  tiie 
provisions  necessary  for  the  voyage  ;  and  these,  but  for 
an  unwise  rigor  on  the  part  of  the  civil  authorities,  might 
have  been  sold  to  the  invader,  at  a  fair  price,  instead  of 
being  yielded  to  him  only  at  the  price  of  blood.  Gen 
eral  Leslie  had  made  overtures  to  this  effect,  and  public 
virtue  did  not  require  that  his  application  should  have 
been  rejected.  It  was  clear  that  the  enemy  should  be 
fed,  and  equally  certain  that,  if  not  allowed  to  traffic 
peacefully  for  the  provisions  which  they  required,  they 
would  seize  them  by  violence.  The  alternative  was 
urged  by  the  British  general,  and  was  unwisely  disj-e- 
garded  by  the  local  authorities. 

A  few  small  events  conclude  the  history  of  the^war- 
The  enemy  left  the  Combahee,  losing  one  of  their  gal 
leys,  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Americans,  an<J 


336  LIFE     OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

was  employed  in  purging  the  river  of  their  stragglers. 
The  American  horse,  under  Kosciusko,  darted  upon 
their  convoys  at  James'  island,  and  succeeded  in  recov 
ering  a  number  of  very  fine  horses,  belonging  to  citizens 
of  the  state.  Several  bold  enterprises  on  John's  and 
James'  island,  by  Captain  Wilmot,  resulted  finally  in  his 
falling  into  an  ambush,  in  which  he  perished.  This  was 
the  last  blood  shed  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  While 
these  events  were  in  progress  along  the  seaboard,  Gen 
eral  Pickens,  recovered  from  the  wounds  received  at 
Eutaw,  had  been  employed  in  the  upper  country  against 
the  tories  and  the  Indians.  He  was  particularly  suc 
cessful  against  both.  He  carried  the  war  into  the  heart 
of  the  savage  nations  along  the  borders,  compelled  them 
to  yield  at  discretion,  and  exacted  a  heavy  forfeiture  in 
lands,  as  a  penalty  for  their  treacheries.  The  territory 
thus  conquered  includes  all  that  fine  country  which  lies 
between  the  upper  waters  of  the  Savannah  and  Chata- 
hoochie.  Pickens  was  the  first  to  employ  mounted  gun 
men  in  the  war  against  the  Indian  nations. 


GREENE'S  NECESSITIES 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Onsone's  Necessities. — Be  resorts  to  Impressment. — The  British  prepare  to 
Evacuate  Charleston. — That  Event  takes  place  on  the  14th  of  December, 
1782. — The  American  Army  enter  the  City. —  Their  Reception. — The  Joy 
of  the  Inhabitants. — Condition  of  Public  Affairs  in  Carolina. — Discontents 
and  Difficulties. — Sufferings  of  the  Army. — Mutiny. — Army  Disbanded. — 
Greene  Revisits  the  North. — His  Reception  by  Congress. — His  Monetary 
Difficulties. — Greene  returns  to  Carolina. 

THE  summer  had  worn  away,  the  winter  had  set  in, 
and  still  the  British  were  in  possession  of  the  metropolis. 
The  season  through  which  he  had  just  passed,  had  been 
to  Greene  one  of  the  most  painful  weariness  and  anxiety. 
The  distress  of  his  troops  from  want  of  food  and  from 
sickness — his  own  sufferings  of  body  —  and  the  mortify 
ing  feeling  of  a  feebleness  which  forbids  performance, 
at  the  very  time  when  the  public  service  cries  for  it  most, 
had  kept  the  mind  of  the  American  general  in  a  contin 
ued  fever  of  chagrin  and  disappointment.  Yet  his  watch, 
patient  and  vigilant,  though  inactive,  was  nothing  in  its 
humiliations  to  the  constant  struggle  which  he  was  com 
pelled  to  maintain  with  the  local  authorities  to  procure 
the  necessary  provisions  for  the  army.  The  officer  ap 
pointed  by  government  to  furnish  supplies,  at  length  to 
tally  failed  in  his  duty,  and  Greene  was  compelled  to  re 
sume,  however  much  agairjst  his  desire,  the  practice  of 
impressing,  wherever  he  could,  for  the  public  service. 
He  had  forborne  this  necessity  as  long  as  possible. 
He  had  entreated,  and  counselled,  and  expostulated,  and 
warned,  but  all  in  vain  ;  and  to  avoid  the  worse  dangers 
15 


338  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

of  a  mutiny,  he  was  compelled  to  do  as  the  enemy  had 
done,  seize  upon  the  means  of  life  for  those  who,  devoted 
to  the  defence  of  the  country,  were  left  without  all  other 
means  of  support.  But  the  necessities  of  the  soldier 
are  seldom  acknowledged,  when  his  service  appears  nc 
longer  necessary ;  and  the  measures  taken  by  Greene, 
however  essential  to  the  maintenance  of  his  troops,  and 
to  their  good  behavior,  was  greatly  offensive  to  the  citi 
zens.  Public  feeling  on  this  subject,  however,  was  not 
likely  to  assume  a  very  decided  hostility  as  long  as  the 
enemy  still  held  possession  of  the  city,  and  the  exultation 
and  joy  which  followed  his  evacuation  of  it,  were  calcu 
lated,  naturally,  to  make  the  people  forgetful  of  all  minor 
sources  of  annoyance.  General  Leslie's  proceedings  for 
evacuating  Charleston  were  conducted  with  a  politic  os 
tentation  which  had  its  objects.  His  preparations  for 
his  departure  all  complete,  he  opened  negotiations  with 
Greene  in  order  that  it  should  be  peaceful.  There  was 
no  reason  that  such  should  not  be  the  case,  as  any  blow 
struck  while  the  invader  was  about  to  withdraw  wholly 
from  the  conflict,  would  have  attested  rather  a  revenge 
ful  spirit  than  the  wisdom  of  one  who  never  thwarted 
the  objects  of  humanity. 

The  14th  of  December  was  the  day  fixed  for  the  evac 
uation  of  Charleston.  With  the  sound  of  the  morning 
gun,  the  rear-guard  abandoned  their  advanced  redoubts. 
With  the  same  signal,  the  Americans  marched  in,  and 
took  possession  of  them.  This  duty  was  assigned  tc 
Wayne,  at  the  head  of  three  hundred  infantry,  the  cav 
alry  of  the  legion,  and  a  detachment  of  artillery.  Closely 
did  the  eager  Americans  press  upon  the  heels  of  their 
retiring  foes.  A  distance  of  two  hundred  yards  between 
the  rear  of  the  one  and  the  advance  of  the  other  had  been 
agreed  upon  ;  but  the  anxiety  of  the  Americans,  resuming 
possession  of  their  ancient  city,  beholding  once  more  the 


EVACUATION    OP    CHARLESTON.  339 

old  familiar  walks  and  the  old  familiar  faces,  from  which 
they  had  been  so  long  separated,  made  them  trespass 
upon  this  limit,  and  the  cry  from  the  British  officers,  at 
such  moments  —  "You  are  pressing  upon  us  —  you  march 
too  fast  for  us"- — would  check  momentarily  the  progress, 
and  compel  a  halt  which  the  troops  found  it  exceedingly 
difficult  to  observe.  The  lines  passed,  the  enemy  filed 
off  to  Gadsden's  wharf,  and  by  eleven  o'clock,  A.  M., 
the  embarkation  was  complete.  Wayne  marched  for 
ward,  and  halted  at  the  intersection  of  the  two  principal 
streets,  Meeting  and  Broad,  taking  up  his  position  in 
front  of  the  statehouse.  His  detachment  was  followed 
by  the  calvacade  which  attended  Greene  in  person — an 
imposing  assemblage,  consisting  of  the  first  persons  of 
the  state,  the  governor,  and  his  suite  and  the  public  au 
thorities.  These  were  preceded  by  a  detachment  of  dra 
goons.  They  were  followed  by  Major-Generals  Moultrie 
and  Gist,  by  a  long  cavalcade  of  officers  and  citizens,  by 
the  governor's  council,  and  by  another  body  of  cavalry. 
It  was  a  glad  day  for  the  city.  Its  long-banished  citizens 
were  restored  —  the  brave  hearts  that  refused  to  suc 
cumb,  or  to  despair — preferring  to  make  sacrifice  of 
property  and  hope  itself,  for  the  maintenance  of  princi 
ple.  Fond  and  touching  was  the  welcome  they  received. 
The  doors  were  thrown  wide  for  their  reception,  while 
balconies  and  windows,  crowded  with  joyous  faces,  looked 
the  delight  which  was  throbbing  in  every  heart.  Mute, 
for  a  while,  was  the  voice  of  pleasure,  in  the  eagerness 
of  curiosity,  and  the  novelty  of  those  emotions  which 
were  yet  to  find  a  voice.  The  feeling,  at  first,  could  ex 
press  itself  in  tears  alone.  Aged  women  might  be  seen 
upon  their  knees,  thankful  but  dumb,  entreating  in  their 
hearts  for  the  blessings  of  that  Benign  Father,  to  whom 
they  felt  how  deep  was  their  debt  of  gratitude.  But 
when  the  procession  had  reached  the  centre  of  the  city 


540  LIFE    OP    NA1HANAEL    GREENE. 

—  when  every  eye  had  feasted  upon  the  hitherto  unknown 
face  of  that  brave  and  prudent  commander  to  whose 
firmness  and  policy  the  country  was  so  great  a  debtor  — 
when  they  had  recalled  all  the  well-known  features  of 
their  own  gallant  and  faithful  sons  —  and  the  heart  could 
receive  nothing  more,  and  needed  relief  from  its  own 
deep  overflow  —  then  rose  from  earth  to  heaven  the  fer 
vent  cry  of  delight  and  gratitude.  Then  gratitude  found 
its  voice,  and  joy  its  shout  of  exultation.  Voices  rose 
wild  in  gratulation  and  applause  ;  and  fervently  did  the 
soul  of  prayer  declare  itself  in  blessings  and  benedictions. 
"  God  bless  you  all !"  was  the  cry  from  thousands.  "  God 
bless  you,  brave  men  —  and  welcome!  welcome!  all,  to 
your  homes  and  to  ours  !" 

The  work  upon  which  Greene  had  been  sent  to  the 
soutk  was  thus  accomplished.  The  war  was  at  an  end. 
He  had  found  the  country  covered  with  its  foes,  and  in 
two  years  they  had  disappeared  from  its  face.  He  had 
found  them  fortified  in  numerous  posts  of  strength,  from 
all  of  which  they  had  been  expelled.  The  two  Caroli- 
nas  and  Georgia  were  once  more  restored  to  their  origi 
nal  possessors  ;  and  all  these  results  had  been  obtained 
in  the  face  of  every  disadvantage.  With  inferior  troops, 
inferior  appliances  and  implements,  without  money,  with 
out  clothes  for  his  troops,  and  frequently  without  provis 
ions  and  ammunition,  we  find  him  steadily  waging  the 
conflict  —  evading  the  foe  whom  he  could  not  confidently 
meet,  but  ever  hanging  about  his  path,  watchful  to  take 
advantage  of  all  his  mistakes,  and  to  dart  upon  his  mo 
ments  of  unwariness  and  inaction.  And  the  consequen 
ces  had  not  been  partial.  The  recovery  of  the  country 
was  complete,  and  the  negotiations  were  already  in  prog 
ress  which  promised  that  the  peace  of  the  states  shoulil 
bo  followed  by  their  independence. 

But  Greene's  troubles  were  not  yet  over.     The  al> 


CONFLICTS    OF    AUTHORITY.  341 

sence  of  the  enemy  brought  no  peace  to  his  threshold. 
His  cares  were  destined  to  continue  to  the  end  of  his 
life,  to  harass  his  mind  to  the  last,  and  so  to  embitter  his 
days  as  in  all  probability  to  shorten  their  duration,  and 
give  force  to  the  disease  by  which  he  prematurely  per 
ished.  He  still  held  command  in  South  Carolina,  and 
had  the  misfortune  to  be  embroiled  in  a  struggle  between 
the  civil  authorities  and  the  army.  Hitherto,  his  prog 
ress,  directly  beneath  the  eye  of  John  Rutledge,  had  re 
ceived  the  sanction  of  that  noble  patriot,  and  of  his  suc 
cessor,  in  the  chair  of  state.  The  legislature,  also,  them 
selves  mostly  sensible  of  his  great  services,  the  purity  of 
his  heart,  and  the  integrity  of  his  character,  had  shown 
him,  as  we  have  seen,  that  they  could  do  justice  to  his 
merits.  In  their  proceedings  they  justly  represented  the 
sentiments  of  the  people.  But,  with  the  departure  of 
the  British,  the  support  and  presence  of  an  army  became 
equally  unnecessary  and  irksome  to  the  civil  authorities. 
We  have  seen,  already,  with  what  difficulty  and  constant 
struggle,  Greene  succeeded  in  procuring  food  for  his 
troops  after  the  legislature  had  determined  that  this  pro 
vision  should  be  made  only  through  their  own  agents. 
The  difficulty  naturally  increased  with  the  absence  of 
that  foreign  enemy  in  whose  presence  alone  that  of  a  de 
fensive  army  found  the  popular  sanction.  Frequent 
bickerings  ensued  between  the  conflicting  authorities  of 
the  state  and  the  army.  Questions  of  paramount  au 
thority  continued  to  arise  between  the  one,  insisting  upon 
its  independence,  and  the  other,  claiming  to  represent  a 
central  power  to  which  all  were  required  to  submit. 
Greene  took  strong  ground  upon  this  subject,  and  in 
behalf  of  the  latter,  which,  perhaps,  would  not  have 
been  taken  but  for  the  fact  that  the  domestic  authority 
was  not  yet  so  thoroughly  restored  as  to  place  its  assump 
tions  beyond  dispute.  The  confederacy  had  been  formed 


342  LIFE  OF  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

in  respect  to  the  war  —  to  the  pressing  exigency  arising 
from  foreign  invasion  —  and  the  rights  of  the  central 
government,  in  the  season  of  returning  peace,  were  yet 
to  be  the  subject  of  new  discussions  and  new  leagues. 
But,  with  his  army  not  yet  disbanded,  with  the  country 
still  infested  with  outlawed  bands  that  defied  the  civil 
arm,  and  with  the  foreign  enemy  not  yet  withdrawn  from 
the  coast,  the  American  general  naturally  demeaned  him 
self  as  if  the  war  was  still  in  progress.  This  he  might 
reasonably  assume,  as  no  treaty  of  peace  had  yet  been 
ratified.  He,  accordingly,  engaged  in  the  discussion 
with  the  state  authorities,  on  subjects  over  which  they 
claimed  exclusive  control,  and  mortally  offended  some 
of  the  officers  of  the  state  government,  the  executive 
among  them,  by  this  alleged  interference.  The  pay 
ment  of  the  state  contribution  —  the  treatment  of  the  to 
nes —  subjects  which  seemed  to  be  at  once  popular  and 
domestic  —  were  among  those  vexing  questions,  in  the 
discussion  of  which  it  was  Greene's  misfortune  to  give 
offence  to  the  people  he  had  so  lately  served  with  so 
much  zeal  and  success.  It  is  not  necessary  that  we 
should  take  part  in  this  discussion,  nor  is  it  necessary 
that  we  should  inquire  in  how  far  he  was  right  in  de 
siring  to  increase  the  strength  of  the  central  establish 
ment  at  the  expense  of  the  individual  states. 

The  army,  meanwhile,  continued  to  suffer  in  conse 
quence  of  this  difficulty  between  the  civil  authorities 
and  representatives  of  Congress  and  the  state.  Con 
gress,  the  creature  of  the  states,  had  no  means  of  sup 
porting  the  troops  unless  by  the  state  subsidies.  The 
states  withheld  their  subsidies  from  the  support  of  an 
army  for  which  they  no  longer  had  any  use.  South 
Carolina  claimed  to  have  already  contributed  a  far 
greater  amount  than  her  quota.  Indeed,  she  had  sup 
ported  the  army  during  the  last  three  years  of  the  war 


SUFFERINGS    OP    THE    ARMY.  343 

in  the  south,  almost  exclusively,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
war  was  the  largest  creditor  state  in  the  Union.  With 
this  fact  before  them,  a  large  party  in  the  state  opposed 
resolutely  every  appropriation  which  could  have  sup 
plied  the  wants  and  met  the  necessities  of  the  soldiery. 
Greene's  efforts  to  obtain  the  necessary  supplies  were 
only  construed  into  an  offensive  effort  at  dictation,  and 
was  denounced  as  an  arrogant  presumption.  We  need 
not  pursue  this  subject,  or  go  into  the  numerous  petty 
and  vexatious  details  which  might  display  the  mutual 
errors  and  mistakes  of  the  conflicting  parties.  But  a 
single  instance  of  collision  between  the  civil  authorities 
and  the  army  occurred,  and  irr  this  instance  the  governor 
of  the  state  receded  from  a  position  which  he  had  unwa 
rily  taken.  Greene  behaved  with  equal  moderation  and 
firmness,  and  no  evil  consequences  ensued. 

The  long  and  painful  history  which  followed  upon  the 
individual  attempts  of  the  American  general  to  sustain 
the  army  on  his  own  credit,  is  one  that  must  be  greatly 
condensed  for  this  narrative.  In  the  failure  of  the  Con 
gress  and  of  the  state  to  provide  for  his  troops,  it  was 
attempted  to  supply  the  deficiency  by  contract.  The 
transaction  was  one  which  was  naturally  considered  ex 
ceedingly  hazardous,  since  it  was  very  doubtful  in  what 
quarter  the  contracting  party  could  finally  look  for  pay 
ment.  The  only  offer  was  made  by  a  person  named 
Banks,  and  after  an  interval  of  nearly  three  months,  in  the 
absence  of  all  other  proposals,  his  were  accepted.  But 
Banks  seems  to  have  been  a  needy  man,  and  was  already 
much  involved.  He  was  just  such  an  adventurer  as 
such  times  were  calculated  to  produce.  His  creditors, 
becoming  apprehensive  at  what  he  had  dene,  as  endan 
gering  their  securities,  threatened  to  foreclose  the  moit- 
gage  which  they  held  upon  his  property,  and  thus  de 
prive  him  of  the  credit  upon  which,  alone,  could  he  be 


344  LIFE    OP    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

able  to  meet  his  contracts.  In  this  predicament,  Banks 
shrunk  from  the  responsibilities  he  had  undertaken  ;  the 
army  was  again  neglected  —  its  patience  was  exhausted 
—  and  its  discontents  soon  rose  to  such  a  height,  that,  ap 
prehensive  of  a  mutiny  among  the  most  insubordinate, 
Greene  was  compelled  to  call  out  a  select  body,  drawn 
from  such  troops  as  he  supposed  faithful,  in  order  to 
overawe  the  residue.  His  detachment  was  actually  put 
under  arms,  with  cannon  loaded  and  matches  lighted, 
so  near  was  the  anticipated  trial  of  his  strength  and  firm 
ness.  In  this  exigency,  with  the  evil  still  at  work,  and 
the  danger  still  present  and  threatening,  Greene  was  per 
suaded  that  his  personal  security  would  suffice  to  extri 
cate  Banks  from  the  immediate  danger  of  his  creditors, 
and  enable  him  to  fulfil  his  contract  for  supplying  the 
army.  There  seemed  to  be  no  other  alternative  by 
which  to  avoid  a  crisis,  and  Greene  unhesitatingly 
pledged  himself  as  the  security  for  Banks.  We  need 
not  describe  the  details.  The  result  was  that  Banks  be 
came  a  bankrupt,  and  the  whole  burden  of  his  indebted 
ness  fell  on  the  American  general.  But  this  information 
reached  him  only  after  the  army  was  dissolved.  That 
event  followed  upon  the  arrival  of  the  long-expected 
news  of  peace.  This  intelligence  reached  Charlestor, 
on  the  16th  of  April,  1783 ;  and  was  received  by  the 
southern  army,  stationed  on  James'  island,  with  as  mucr 
joy  and  exultation  as  could  well  be  shown  by  soldiers 
whose  only  food  at  the  time  consisted  of  meat,  without 
the  accompaniment  of  a  single  breadstuff.  The  troops 
were  soon  furloughed  to  their  respective  states,  the  last 
act  of  their  commander,  in  connexion  with  them,  con 
sisting  in  an  earnest  appeal  to  the  governor  of  the  states 
within  his  command,  entreating  their  attention  and  justice 
to  the  brave  fellows  who  had  so  long  been  suffering  in 
the  common  cause.  The  close  of  August  found  Greene 


GREENE    LEAVES    THE    ARMY,  O-1 

himself,  on  his  way  homeward,  respited,  after  a  seven 
years'  apprenticeship  to  war,  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
sweets  of  home  and  its  endearing  relations.  His  journey 
was  taken  by  land,  a  journey  of  many  fatigues,  and  at 
the  worst  season  of  the  year.  But  he  had  too  frequently 
traversed  the  same  weary  path  in  the  prosecution  of 
duty  —  should  he  feel  its  privations  now  when  the  prom 
ised  end  before  him  was  repose  and  happiness  1  His 
route  was  cheered  by  the  congratulations  of  the  authori 
ties  and  of  the  people  in  all  the  states  through  which  he 
travelled,  all  of  whom  vied  in  the  desire  to  acknowledge 
his  great  service  to  the  country.  Congress  was  in  session 
at  Princeton,  and  thither  he  repaired  to  surrender  up  his 
trusts  in  person.  To  that  body  he  made  the  simple  re 
quest  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  return  to  Rhode 
Island  —  "  that  it  was  now  going  on  nine  years  since  he 
had  had  an  opportunity  to  visit  his  family  and  friends,  or 
pay  the  least  attention  to  his  private  fortune."  This  re 
quest  was  answered  by  a  compliment.  A  committee  was 
appointed  "  to  report  a  suitable  expression  of  the  appro 
bation  of  Congress,"  and  the  result  was  a  resolution — > 
"  That  two  pieces  of  field  ordnance  taken  from  the  Brit 
ish  army  at  the  Cowpens,  Augusta,  or  Eutaw,  be  present 
ed  by  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  the  United 
States  to  Major-General  Greene,  as  a  public  testimonial 
of  the  wisdom,  fortitude,  and  military  skill,  which  distin 
guished  his  command  in  the  southern  department,  and 
of  the  eminent  services,  which,  amidst  complicated  diffi 
culties  and  dangers,  and  against  an  enemy  greatly  superior 
in  numbers,  he  has  successfully  performed  for  his  coun 
try  :  —  and  that  a  memorandum  be  engraved  on  the  said 
pieces  of  ordnance  expressive  of  the  substance  of  this 
resolution." 

A  further  resolve  gave  him  the  required  permission  to 
visit  Rhode  Island,  for  which  the  consent  of  the  com- 
15* 


346  LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GEEENE. 

mander-in-cliief  had  already  been  obtained.  Washing 
ton,  on  this  occasion,  met  with  Greene  for  the  last  time. 
Perhaps,  there  was  no  general  of  the  American  army 
whose  particular  genius  so  much  resembled  that  of 
Washington  as  the  commander  of  the  southern  army. 
It  is  certain  that  he  modeled  himself  after  the  former, 
whom  he  had  chosen  for  his  study,  and  whom  he  ever  re 
garded  with  the  profoundest  admiration  and  respect.  It 
was  among  the  subjects  which  vexed  the  enemies  of 
Washington  that  he  had  singled  out  Greene  as  the  favor 
ite  general,  upon  whose  counsels  he  always  most  pre 
ferred  to  rely. 

It  was  while  at  Philadelphia,  that  Greene  first  heard 
of  the  failure  of  Banks,  the  contractor  for  the  army,  for 
whom  he  had  unwisely  become  security.  The  full  force 
of  the  blow  was  scarcely  felt  by  him  at  this  moment. 
There  was  still  some  reason  to  believe  that  the  affairs 
of  Banks  were  not  wholly  desperate,  and  though  his  con 
duct  was  in  the  last  degree  suspicious,  he  having  with 
drawn  from  the  hands  of  a  third  person  the  bills  which 
had  been  pledged  for  Greene's  indemnity,  the  sanguine 
temperament  of  the  latter  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
full  extent  of  the  evil  which  he  had  every  cause  to  fear. 
At  this  moment,  too,  when  released,  for  the  first  time  for 
many  years,  from  the  heavy  and  various  duties  of  a  sta 
tion  full  of  the  most  exciting  and  vital  responsibilities  — 
free  from  a  load  of  care  —  and  about  to  revisit  the  scene? 
of  his  youth  and  early  manhood,  and  take  to  his  embrace? 
the  precious  children  whom,  for  so  long  a  season,  he  hact 
not  been  permitted  to  see  : — his  mind  naturally  refused 
to  burden  itself  with  apprehensions  which  might  lessen 
the  enjoyments  which  his  affections  and  his  hopes  now 
promised  him.  Discarding  all  his  doubts,  yielding  him 
self  only  to  hope,  he  hurried  away  to  Rhode  Island, 
cheered  on  his  route  by  the  same  demonstrations  of  public 


GREENE  RETURNS  TO  CAROLINA.         347 

approbation  which  had  awaited  him  on  his  journey  from 
the  south.  His  arrival  in  Rhode  Island,  was  something 
of  a  triumph.  The  voice  of  his  native  state  declared  its 
approval  of  his  conduct  by  the  warmest  testimonies,  and 
his  home,  under  the  earnest  welcome  of  old  friends  and 
neighbors,  seemed,  for  a  time,  to  have  realized  all  his 
anticipations.  Here,  honored  by  all,  beloved  by  many  — 
with  an  ample  circle  of  friends  and  associates  —  with  a 
precious  homestead  full  of  dear  objects  of  equal  interest 
and  affection  —  with  leisure  for  books  and  thought,  and 
with  just  that  degree  of  occupation  in  the  cultivation  of 
farm  and  garden,  in  which  the  man  of  taste  combines 
equally  recreation  and  employment — nothing  was  want 
ing  to  the  happiness  of  Greene  but  escape  from  his  cruel 
pecuniary  entanglements.  These  haunted  him  in  the  sa 
cred  retreats  of  home,  and  embittered  all  its  pleasures. 
His  residence  in  Rhode  Island  was  for  a  time  only.  His 
resolution  had  been  taken  to  remove  to  the  south,  where 
he  might  enjoy  with  more  profit  to  his  interest,  the  es 
tates  which  the  liberality  of  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas 
had  enabled  him  to  procure.  In  the  month  of  June,  1784, 
he  returned  to  South  Carolina  to  complete  his  prepara 
tions  for  the  final  removal  of  his  family.  But  his  evil 
destiny  pursued  him.  The  cloud  which  hung  about  his 
fortunes,  with  the  feeling  it  produced,  may  be  gathered 
from  a  letter  to  one  of  his  brothers,  written  from  Charles 
ton.  "  My  heart  is  too  full,"  he  writes,  "  and  my  situ 
ation  too  distressing,  to  write  much,  .  .  You  may  re 
member,  I  told  you  last  winter  of  some  heavy  embarrass 
ments,  which  hung  over  me  from  becoming  security  for 
Banks,  Hunter,  &  Co.  They  being  public  contractors, 
and  the  feeding  of  the  army  depending  upon  supporting 
their  credit,  I  was  obliged  to  guaranty  sundry  of  their 
debts.  But  that  I  might  be  secure,  they  engaged  that 
all  the  contract  money  should  go  to  the  discharge  of  my 


348  LIFE    OF    NATI1ANAEL    GREENE. 

guaranty  bonds.  This  they  have  found  means  to  avoid  ; 
their  affairs  have  gro  ivn  desperate,  and  I  am  and  shall  be 
involved  in  heavy  and  unavoidable  losses.  ...  It  will 
oblige  me  to  sell  a  considerable  part  of  my  estate.  My 
situation  is  truly  afflicting  !  To  be  reduced  from  inde 
pendence  to  want,  and  from  the  power  of  obliging  my 
friends,  to  a  situation  claiming  their  aid.  .  .  .  My  heart 
faints  within  me  when  I  think  of  my  family.  I  have  only 
one  consolation  —  it  is  not  the  fruits  of  extravagance." 

Banks,  the  miserable  insolvent  dared  not  encounter 
the  man  he  had  ruined.  He  fled  from  Charleston  the 
moment  he  heard  of  Greene's  arrival  in  that  city.  Be 
lieving  that  he  still  possessed  the  means  of  indemnity, 
Greene  resolved  to  pursue  him,  and  compel  restoration. 
Mounting  his  horse,  though  at  the  most  sickly  season  of 
the  year,  taking  with  him  a  single  servant,  and  provided 
only  with  his  pistols  and  a  change  of  garments  in  his 
saddle-bags,  he  at  once  set  forth  in  pursuit.  His  route 
was  taken  over  the  same  region  which  he  had  formerly 
traversed  at  the  head  of  an  army.  At  every  step  for 
ward  some  recollection  of  mingled  pain  and  pleasure, 
started  up  before  him.  What  had  been  his  situation 
then  ?  One  of  peril  surely,  of  many  privations,  but  none 
of  such  humiliating  involvements  as  now  vexed  his  heart, 
and  drove  peace  and  quiet  from  his  mind.  If  he  was 
then,  the  soldier  of  fortune  only,  having  nothing  but  his 
sword,  he  was  still  the  soldier  of  freedom  whose  only 
cares  were  such  honorable  ones  as  belong  to  his  country. 
But  with  peace,  he  had  been  cheered  with  a  promise  of 
independence  for  himself,  and  plenty  for  his  children, 
vouchsafed  him  only,  as  it  would  seem,  to  mortify  and 
mock.  His  feelings  and  fears  were  a  terrible  goad  to 
his  endeavors.  Under  the  burning  sun  of  that  season 
and  region,  he  pressed  his  pursuit ;  and  in  a  chase  of  400 
miles  he  at  length  overtook  the  wretched  bankrupt.  But 


GREENE'S  DISTRESSES.  349 

Banks  had  been  already  overtaken  by  a  more  fatal,  if  less 
angry  creditor.  Greene  found  him  dying,  the  victim  to  a 
malignant  fever  which  had  seized  upon  him  even  be 
fore  he  fled  from  Charleston.  The  excitement  of  fear— 
the  intense  desire  to  escape  from  his  pursuer  —  had  sus 
tained  him  on  this  long  and  painful  route  ;  and  believing 
himself  secure  from  the  man  he  had  wronged,  he  laid 
himself  down  to  die.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  fled 
with  any  spoils.  His  flight  appears  to  have  been  prompt 
ed  only  by  an  earnest  anxiety  to  escape  the  eyes  of  his 
creditor.  His  conscience  had  been  the  goad  to  the  fugi 
tive  ;  and  Greene  gained  nothing  from  the  pursuit  but 
a  confirmation  of  all  his  fears.  He  had  but  to  retrace 
the  path  in  disappointment  which  he  had  lately  trod  in 
eagerness  and  hope.  He  writes  —  "  My  distresses  are 
sufficient  already  to  sink  me  under  water.  A  little  more, 
and  I  am  gone."  From  this  sentence  his  mental  agony 
may  be  inferred.  That  one  who  had  borne  so  many 
vicissitudes,  and  had  passed  so  manfully  through  such  a 
career  of  peril,  defeat,  and  disappointments,  should  have 
expressed  himself  in  language  so  desponding,  is  sufficient 
to  understand  his  situation,  and  the  extremity  of  his  ap 
prehensions.  These  were  mostly  realized.  He  was 
compelled,  at  a  time  of  peculiar  pressure  in  the  moneyed 
condition  of  the  country,  to  sell  the  lands  which  he  had 
bought  in  Carolina,  at  an  enormous  sacrifice.  His  slaves 
were  removed  to  his  estate  in  Georgia.  To  this  estate  — 
a  beautiful  place  called  Mulberry  Grove,  on  the  Savan 
nah,  which  had  been  presented  him  by  the  state  of  Geor 
gia. —  he  at  length  retired  in  the  spring  of  1785.  A 
memorial  to  Congress  which  was  presented  in  August, 
of  this  year,  giving  a  simple  history  of  his  relations  with 
Banks,  and  the  losses  sustained  by  him,  amply  showed 
that  these  losses  had  been  sustained  entirely  for  the  coun 
try,  and  were  unavoidable  from  his  situation.  His  state* 


LIFE  OP  NATHANAEL  GREENE. 

ments,  made  when  all  the  facts  were  fresh  in  the  public 
mind,  proved  him  to  be  equally  patriotic  and  unfortunate, 
and,  without  preferring  a  claim  to  the  immediate  inter 
ference  of  Congress,  left  it  to  their  sense  of  right  to  de 
termine,  whether  the  losses  incurred  in  their  cause,  should 
not  be  met  by  their  justice  and  liberality.  This  was  his 
last  official  communication  to  his  government.  It  pre- 
r^.nts  the  spectacle,  at  once  noble  and  painful,  of  a  man 
T,^ko  has  faithfully  served  his  country,  modestly  prefer- 
ling  a  claim,  which,  however  humbled  by  misfortune,  he 
yet  disdains  to  solicit. 


FURTHER    ANNOYANCES. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

His  Removal  to  Georgia. — Challenged  by  Captain  Gunn. — He  declhici 
the  Challenge. — The  Extent,  Prospect,  Peace  and  Beauty  of  his  Sn> 
mains. — His  Sickness  and  Death. — Public  Sorrow  and  Honors  oa  tfci* 
Event. — His  Character. — Conclusion. 

GREENE'S  annoyances  from  the  failure  of  Banks,  con 
tinued  to  the  end  of  his  life.  But  these  were  not  all. 
Scarcely  had  he  reached  his  new  abode  in  Georgia,  when 
a  personal  difficulty  assailed  him  which  he  had  no  reason 
to  anticipate.  He  was  waited  on  by  Colonel  Jackson, 
as  the  friend  of  Captain  Gunn,  who  demanded  redress 
for  a  supposed  injury  done  to  himself  by  Greene,  while 
the  latter  was  in  command  of  the  southern  army.  The 
offence  arose  from  a  habit  which  but  too  much  prevailed 
among  the  dragoons,  of  seizing  and  keeping  the  horses 
of  the  public  or  of  their  own  troopers.  By  the  constitution 
of  the  corps  each  officer  was  required  to  provide  his 
own  horse,  and  an  allowance  was  made  him,  in  money, 
to  enable  him  to  do  so.  But,  as  the  government  finally 
failed  altogether  in  making  payment  to  the  troops,  the 
officers  of  cavalry,  when  they  lost  their  own  horses,  did 
not  scruple  to  dismount  their  troopers  at  pleasure,  or  ap 
propriated  such  horses  as  were  procured  for  the  public 
service.  Abuses  still  more  gross  had  resulted  from  this 
license,  and  there  were  very  few  officers  who  did  not 
keep  from  one  to  three  horses.  Captain  Gunn,  whose 
challenge  to  the  field  of  personal  combat,  awaited  Greene 
on  his  arrival  in  Georgia,  had  improved  upon  the  system. 


352  LIFE    OF    NATIIANAEL    GREENE. 

He  had  exchanged  a  public  horse  with  a  brother  officer, 
for  which  he  had  received  two  other  horses  and  a  slave. 
Greene  brought  him  to  trial  for  this  offence,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  make  restitution  for  the  horse.  His  present 
demand  was  based  upon  Greene's  proceedings  in  the 
case. 

Greene  had  been  brought  up  in  a  school  which  did 
not  tolerate  duelling.  Fortunately  for  his  reputation  as 
a  man  of  personal  courage,  that  was  sufficiently  well- 
known,  to  render  necessary  any  resort  to  this  means,  for 
securing  him  in  the  respect  of  his  neighbors.  But  he 
placed  his  refusal  to  meet  with  Gunn,  on  other  grounds, 
and,  after  a  clear  and  correct  narrative  of  the  whole  af 
fair,  which  he  gave  to  Colonel  Jackson,  he  concluded 
with  declaring  his  resolution  never  to  sanction  the  call 
of  an  inferior  officer  upon  his  superior,  for  supposed  in 
juries  done  in  the  course  of  command.  Jackson,  upon 
understanding  the  history  of  the  case,  withdrew  from  all 
connexion  with  it:  but  Gunn,  not  to  be  pacified,  pro 
cured  another  agent,  in  the  person  of  Major  Fishburne, 
who  renewed  for  him  his  requisition  upon  Greene.  The 
latter  refused  any  answer,  and  was  accordingly  threat 
ened  by  Gunn  with  a  personal  assault,  for  which  he  gave 
the  challenger  to  understand  he  always  went  prepared. 
The  parties  do  not  seem  to  have  sought  or  shunned  each 
other.  By  good  fortune  they  never  met,  and  the  affair 
was  soon  blown  over.  But  Greene  seems  to  have  been 
troubled  with  some  misgivings  in  relation  to  the  course 
which  he  had  pursued.  His  career  as  a  soldier  had 
grievously  shaken  the  foundations  of  his  quaker  philoso 
phy.  He  had  become  sensible  in  the  army,  of  the  ex 
treme  delicacy  which  belongs  to  a  military  reputation, 
and  the  exceeding  readiness  with  which  the  youthful 
salamander  learns  to  question  the  courage  of  the  more 
sedate  and  scrupulous.  He  accordingly  addresse/3  to 


GREENE    CN     HIS    PLANTATION.  353 

Washington  a  private  letter  on  the  subject,  entreating 
his  opinion.  "  If,"  said  he,  "  I  thought  my  honor  or 
reputation  would  suffer  in  the  opinion  of  the  world,  and 
more  especially  with  the  military  gentlemen,  I  value  life 
too  little  to  hesitate  a  moment  to  answer  the  challenge." 
The  reply  of  Washington  affirmed  the  propriety  of 
Greene's  judgment  in  the  matter.  He  says — "I  give  it 
as  my  decided  opinion  that  your  honor  arid  reputation 
will  stand  not  only  perfectly  acquitted  for  the  non-ac 
ceptance  of  his  [Gunn's]  challenge,  but  that  your  pru 
dence  and  judgment  would  have  been  condemned  for 
accepting  it ;  because,  if  a  commanding  officer  is  amena 
ble  to  private  calls  for  the  discharge  of  his  public  duty, 
he  has  a  dagger  always  at  his  heart ;  and  can  turn  neither 
to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left  without  meeting  its 
point.  In  a  word,  he  is  no  longer  a  free  agent  in  office, 
as  there  are  few  military  decisions  which  are  not  offen 
sive  to  one  party  or  another." 

"With  this  affair  the  annoyances  of  Greene  appear  tc 
cease.  His  mind  began  to  recover  its  tone;  his  spiriti 
are  more  fresh  and  buoyant.  He  had  brought  on  his 
family  to  Georgia  in  the  latter  part  of  1785,  and  he  in 
dulges  in  all  those  dreams  of  happiness,  in  his  own 
grounds,  which  the  public  man  is  apt  to  feel  after  a  long 
and  trying  service,  when  he  finds  himself  apart  from  the 
busy  world,  and  respited  from  all  its  troubles.  He  has  found 
a  refuge.  The  seclusion  of  his  plantation  is  no  solitude. 
His  wife  and  children  are  about  him.  He  is  solaced 
with  their  sympathies,  and  gladdened  by  their  sight.  He 
is  honored  by  his  neighbors,  and  finds  their  society 
grateful.  His  duties  are  no  longer  burdensome.  His 
cares  involve  no  humiliations.  To  cultivate  his  fields,  to 
clear  and  beautify  his  grounds,  to  multiply  the  produce 
of  the  earth,  and  watch  the  growth  of  plants  and  flowers, 
which  his  own  hands  have  set  out,  provides  him  with  em- 


LIFE    OP    NATHANAEL    GREENE. 

ployments  at  once  grateful  to  his  tastes,  and  in  unison 
with  his  duties.  It  is  evident,  from  his  correspondence 
at  this  period,  that  Greene  had  shaken  off  his  despon 
dency,  and  was  beginning  to  see  the  world  once  more 
through  the  rose-colored  medium  of  youth.  His  escape 
from  the  drudgery  of  public  service  was  like  that  of  a 
boy  released  from  school,  and  rioting  with  his  comrades 
in 'the  broad  fields  and  in  the  blessed  sunshine.  His  res 
idence  was  a  delightful  one,  and  it  awakened  all  his  en 
thusiasm.  His  letters  at  this  period  are  full  of  his 
grounds  and  garden  —  his  shrubbery — the  pigeon-house 
and  poultry-yard.  He  had  fairly  surrendered  himself  to 
the  luxury  of  domestic  life.  What  a  contrast,  its  calm, 
its  peaceful  solitudes,  its  mild  enjoyments,  to  the  con 
tinued  turmoil,  the  fierce  excitements,  the  anxieties  and 
dangers  of  the  camp.  In  April,  a  bit  of  a  letter  shows 
us  how  happily  he  lords  it  in  his  little  empire.  "  This  is 
a  busy  time  with  us,  and  I  can  afford  but  a  small  portion 
of  time  to  write.  We  are  planting.  We  have  got  up 
ward  of  sixty  acres  of  corn  planted,  and  expect  to  plant 
one  hundred  and  thirty  of  rice.  The  garden  is  delight 
ful.  The  fruit-trees  and  flowering  shrubs  form  a  pleas 
ing  variety.  We  have  green  peas  almost  fit  to  eat,  and 
as  fine  lettuce  as  you  ever  saw.  The  mocking-birds 
surround  us  evening  and  morning.  The  weather  is  mild 
and  the  vegetable  world  progressing  to  perfection.  We 
have  in  the  same  orchard,  apples,  pears,  peaches,  apri 
cots,  nectarines,  plums  of  various  kinds,  figs,  pomegran 
ate,  and  oranges.  And  we  have  strawberries  which 
measure  three  inches  round." 

He  has  evidently  forgotten  the  demands  of  Gunn,  and 
the  failure  of  Banks.  He  has  delivered  himself  to  the 
present,  and  to  the  lovely  empire  of  fruit  and  flower 
with  which  he  has  environed  himself  in  his  retreat.  But, 
it  was  Heaven's  will  that  he  should  not  behold  the  ripening 


355 

of  the  fruits  which  his  hands  had  set  to  grow  ;  it  was  the 
will  of  the  same  Divine  Providence  that  the  wretched 
entanglement  with  Banks  should  still  be  the  means,  in 
some  degree,  for  cutting  him  off  in  his  felicity.  His 
presence  was  required  in  Savannah,  on  Monday  the  12th 
of  June,  1786,  for  the  purpose  of  settling  with  one  of 
Bank's  creditors.  In  returning  from  that  city,  he  spent  the 
day  at  the  house  of  Mr.  William  Gibbons.  Greene  had 
become  a  rice-planter,  and  a  natural  curiosity  to  see 
the  progress  of  Mr.  Gibbons'  crop,  led  them  after  break 
fast  into  the  rice-field  together.  The  sun  was  intensely 
hot,  as  it  usually  is  during  this  month  in  the  south,  but 
Greene  had  too  frequently  endured  his  fiercest  rays  in 
Carolina,  to  apprehend  danger  from  them  now.  The 
exposure  was  followed  by  a  sharp  pain  in  the  head,  which 
he  felt  while  going  home,  and  which  continued  through 
out  the  ensuing  day.  But  it  occasioned  no  alarm,  and 
was  supposed  to  be  nothing  but  an  ordinary  headache. 
On  Thursday,  however,  the  pain  had  increased  greatly, 
over  the  eyes  in  particular,  and  the  forehead  appeared 
swollen  and  inflamed.  In  the  evening,  Major  Pendleton, 
late  his  aid,  paid  him  a  visit,  and  was  immediately  im 
pressed  with  the  unfavorable  change  in  his  appearance. 
His  apprehensions  were  excited,  and  early  on  Friday,  a 
physician  was  summoned,  who  opened  a  vein,  and  ad 
ministered  some  ordinary  remedies.  But  the  inflamma 
tion  continued  to  increase.  Another  physician  was  sum 
moned  ;  more  active  medicines  were  employed ;  more 
blood  was  taken,  and  blisters  were  put  upon  the  temples. 
But  the  remedies  were  applied  too  late.  The  head  had 
now  swollen  greatly  —  the  unfavorable  symptoms  rapidly 
'ncreased.  Greene  sank  into  a  complete  torpor  from 
which  he  never  recovered,  and  early  on  Monday,  the 
19th  of  June,  he  expired. 

This  mournful  event,  which  cut  off  a  citizen  so  dis« 


856  LIFE     OP    NATHANAEL     GREENE. 

tinguished,  in  the  midst  of  his  hopes,  in  the  prime  of  hi* 
manhood  —  for  he  was  but  forty-four  years  old  when  he 
died  —  was  doubly  felt  as  it  was  so  totally  unexpected.  In 
the  south  the  grief  was  at  once  deep  and  general.  In  the 
city  of  Savannah,  the  tidings  produced  a  suspension  of 
all  business,  public  and  private.  The  shops  were  shut, 
the  public  places  were  wrapped  in  mourning,  and  a 
spontaneous  movement  of  the  people,  prepared  for  the 
mournful  duty  of  committing  the  remains  of  one  so  hon 
ored  to  their  final  resting-place.  On  the  morning  after 
his  death,  the  body  was  brought  down  by  water  to  the 
city.  It  was  met  on  the  banks  of  the  river  by  the  muni 
cipality  and  the  military  of  the  place.  The  citizens  turn 
ed  out  as  one  man  to  follow  in  the  melancholy  procession 
to  the  grave,  and  in  the  absence  of  a  regular  minister  of 
the  gospel  —  for  Savannah  had  not  yet  recovered  from 
the  devastating  influences  of  war  —  the  funeral  service, 
according  to  the  rites  of  tlie  church  of  England,  was  read 
by  the  Honorable  William  Stevens.  Deposited  in  an 
unknown  vault,  the  coffin  of  Nathanael  Greene  was  dis 
tinguished  only  by  a  small  metallic  plate,  which,  in  the 
usual  manner,  bears  the  name  and  age  of  the  occupant. 
Upon  this  plate  rests  the  only  hope  of  identifying  the  re 
mains  of  our  subject,  the  search  for  which,  partially 
urged,  perhaps,  has  hitherto  proved  fruitless. 

Congress,  immediately  after  his  death,  decreed  a 
monument  to  his  memory,  to  be  erected  at  the  seat  of 
the  federal  government  —  nay — went  a  step  farther  and 
even  composed  the  inscription — but  to  this  day  nothing 
has  been  done  toward  the  work  ;  neither  bust  nor  stone, 
nor  trophied  monument,  has  been  raised  to  do  justice  to 
a  memory  which  history  can  not  fail  to  honor. 

We  have  no  need  to  dwell  upon  the  services  which 
deserve  this  memorial.  The  public  career  of  Nathanael 
Greene  is  on  record.  His  virtues,  talents,  courage,  and 


HIS    CHARACTER.  357 

eminent  prudence,  will  always  secure  for  him  the  un 
questioning  gratitude  of  those  who  read  thoughtfully  and 
feelingly  the  history  of  our  revolutionary  struggles. 
Brave  without  rashness,  prudent  without  fear,  bold  with 
out  temerity,  temperate  without  phlegm,  firm  without 
obstinacy,  strict  without  harshness,  indulgent  without 
partiality,  thoughtful  without  tardiness,  sanguine  without 
impulse,  and  endowed  with  a  constancy  that  never  lost 
sight  of  its  object  in  its  incidents, — Greene  presented  us 
one  of  the  happiest  specimens  of  a  mind  well  balanced, 
a  heart  matured,  and  a  judgment  ripe  for  all  the  exigen 
cies  that  distinguished  his  career. 

His  conduct  during  the  progress  of  the  struggle  was 
frequently  the  subject  of  cavil  and  complaint.  Slander 
and  defamation  strove  to  fasten  upon  his  skirts  ;  but,  like 
his  great  exemplar,  Washington,  he  shook  off  the  reptile 
as  easily  as  Paul,  the  viper,  after  his  shipwreck  on  the  bar 
barous  island  of  Melita.  His  reputation,  freed  wholly 
from  stain,  or  imputation  of  offence,  has  been  steadily 
rising  to  the  first  rank  among  the  military  men  of  the 
Revolution.  His  talents,  as  a  soldier,  are  supposed  to 
resemble  those  of  the  commander-in-chief,  and,  of  all  our 
major-generals  of  the  Revolution,  he  is  universally  ad 
mitted  to  be  the  one  who  stands  nearest  to  Washington 


APPENDIX. 

SOUTHERN    ARMY. 
A  NARRATIVE    OF   THE    CAMPAIGN   OF    1780, 

EY  COLONEL  OTHO  HOLLAND  WILLIAMS,  ADJUTANT-GENERAL. 

THE  city  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  was  invested  by  a  British 
army,  commanded  by  General  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  on  the  first  day  of 
April,  1780.  Major-General  Lincoln  of  the  American  army,  who  com 
manded  the  garrison,  made  the  best  possible  defence  his  situation  and 
circumstances  would  admit  of;  but,  finding  his  garrison  inadequate,  and 
the  resources  of  the  country  cut  off  or  exhausted,  he  applied  to  the 
commander-in-chief  of  the  American  army  for  a  reinforcement. 

On  the  16th  day  of  April,  1780,  the  quotas  of  Maryland  and  Dela 
ware  troops,  about  fourteen  hundred  infantry,  marched  under  the  orders 
of  Major-General  the  baron  De  Kalb,  from  cantonments  near  Morris- 
town  in  New  Jersey,  for  the  head  of  the  Chesapeake  bay.  They  em 
barked  the  3d  day  of  May,  at  the  head  of  Elk  river,  and  arrived  at 
Petersburg  in  Virginia  early  in  June. 

Here  the  unwelcome  news  of  the  surrender  of  Charleston  (on  the 
1 2th  of  May)  was  first  communicated  to  the  detachment,  the  principal 
object  of  whose  destination  was  lost ;  but  the  country  was  not  yet  con 
quered  ;  and  it  was  presumed  that  the  countenance  of  a  body  of  regular 
troops,  however  small,  would  contribute  more  than  anything  else  to 
sustain  the  fortitude  of  the  militia.  Every  exertion,  therefore,  was 
made  in  Virginia  to  expedite  the  march  of  the  baron's  detachment, 
which  here  received  a  small  reinforcement  of  artillery.  It  proceeded 
with  some  celerity  and  in  fine  spirits  as  far  as  Wilcox's  iron  works, 
on  Deep  river,  in  the  state  of  North  Carolina ;  but  here,  on  the  6th  day 
of  July,  the  baron  found  himself  under  the  necessity  of  halting  for  want 
of  provisions. 

The  state  of  North  Carolina  had  made  no  provision  for  the  troops 
of  the  Union ;  she  was  solely  occupied  with  her  own  militia,  a  great 
portion  of  which,  being  disaffected,  were  obliged  to  be  dragooned  into 
the  service.  All  the  baron'a  applications  and  remonstrances  to  the 


SCO  APPENDIX. 

executive  were  without  effect ;  he  was  obliged  to  send  small  detach 
ments,  under  discreet  officers,  to  collect  provisions  from  the  inhabitants, 
who  at  that  season  of  the  year  had  but  little  to  spare.  Many  of  them 
were  subsisting  themselves  upon  the  last  of  the  preceding  crop  of 
grain,  and  the  new,  although  it  promised  plenty,  was  not  yet  mature ; 
consequently  some  of  the  inhabitants  must  have  suiFered,  notwithstand 
ing  the  strict  orders  to  the  officers  to  impress  only  a  proportion  of  what 
was  found  on  the  farms,  [n  this  dilemma  the  troops  remained  several 
days,  but  the  resources  failing  in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp,  it  became 
necessary  to  draw  supplies  from  a  greater  distance,  or  to  march  to  where 
there  was  greater  plenty.  The  former  was  impracticable,  as  the  means 
of  transportation  were  not  in  the  baron's  power.  He  consequently  de 
termined  on  the  latter,  previously  extending  the  excursions  of  his  for 
aging  parties,  with  directions  to  form  a  small  magazine  at  Cox's  (or 
Wilcox's)  mill,  on  Deep  river,  where  the  troops  arrived  on  the  —  «iay 
of  July,  and  encamped  near  Buffalo  ford. 

Still,  however,  the  supplies  of  grain  were  scarcely  sufficient,  iven 
for  the  present  subsistence  of  the  troops ;  and  the  only  meat  ration  that 
could  be  procured  was  lean  beef,  daily  driven  out  of  the  woods  and  the 
canebrakes,  where  the  cattle  had  wintered  themselves.  Inaction,  bad 
fare,  and  the  difficulty  of  preserving  discipline,  when  there  is  no  appre 
hension  of  danger,  have  often  proved  fatal  to  troops  and  ruined  whole 
armies.  But  here,  the  activity  of  the  officers,  and  the  persevering  pa 
tience  of  the  privates,  preserved  order,  harmony,  and  even  a  passion  for 
the  service. 

The  baron  did  not  fail  to  represent  his  situation  to  Congress,  and  to 
repeat  his  remonstrances  to  the  executive  of  the  state  of  North  Carolina. 
He  had  been  flattered  with  a  promise  of  a  plentiful  supply  of  provisions 
and  a  respectable  reinforcement  of  the  militia  of  North  Carolina,  which 
about  that  time  took  the  field,  under  the  command  of  Mr.  Caswell,  who 
was  appointed  a  major-general.  The  supplies,  however,  did  not  arrive ; 
and  the  commandant  of  the  militia,  ambitious  of  signalizing  himself, 
employed  his  men  in  detachments  against  small  parties  of  disaffected 
inhabitants,  who,  to  avoid  being  drafted  iuto  the  service  of  their  coun 
try,  retired  among  the  swamps  and  other  cover  with  which  that  country 
abounds. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  baron  required  General  Caswell  to  join  his 
command ;  and  it  was  equally  fruitless  to  expect  much  longer  to  find 
subsistence  for  his  soldiers  in  a  country  where  marauding  parties  of 
miiitia  swept  all  before  them.  The  baron  therefore  hesitated  whether 
he  had  better  march  to  join  the  militia,  in  hopes  to  find  that  CaswelFs 
complaints  of  a  want  of  provisions  for  himself  were  fictitious,  or  to  move 
up  the  country  and  gain  the  fertile  banks  of  the  Yadkin  river.  But, 
before  any  resolution  was  taken,  the  approach  of  Major-General  Gates 
was  announced,  by  the  arrival  of  his  aid-de-camp,  Major  Armstrong, 
who  was  to  have  acted  as  deputy  adjutant-general,  but  was  prevented 
bv  sickness. 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OF    1780.  3G1 

General  Gates,  who  had  so  fortunately  terminated  the  career  of  Gen 
eral  Burgoyne  in  the  north,  was  appointed  to  command  the  southern 
army  immediately  after  the  reduction  of  Charleston.  His  arrival,  on 
the  25th  of  July,  was  a  relief  to  De  Kalb,  who  condescendingly  took 
command  of  the  Maryland  division,  which  included  the  regiment  of 
Delaware.  Besides  these  two  corps,  the  army  consisted  only  of  a  small 
legionary  corps,  which  formed  a  junction  with  them  a  few  days  before, 
under  the  command  of  Colonel  Armand,  being  about  sixty  cavalry  and 
as  many  infantry  ;  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Carrington's  detachment  of 
three  companies  of  artillery,  which  had  joined  in  Virginia. 

General  Gates  was  received  with  respectful  ceremony.  The  baron 
ordered  a  continental  salute  from  the  little  park  of  artillery,  which  was 
performed  on  the  entrance  into  camp  of  his  successor,  who  made  nis 
acknowledgments  to  the  baron  for  his  great  politeness ;  approved  his 
standing  orders ;  and,  as  if  actuated  by  a  spirit  of  great  activity  and  en 
terprise,  ordered  the  troops  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  march  at 
a  moment's  warning.  The  latter  order  was  a  matter  of  great  aston 
ishment  to  those  who  knew  the  real  situation  of  the  troops.  But  all 
difficulties  were  removed  by  the  general's  assurances  that  plentiful  sup 
plies  of  rum  and  rations  were  on  the  route,  and  would  overtake  them 
in  a  day  or  two — assurances  that  certainly  were  too  fallacious,  and  that 
never  were  verified.  All  were  in  motion,  however,  early  in  the  morn 
ing  of  the  27th  of  July,  and  the  general  took  the  route  over  Buffalo 
ford,  leading  toward  the  enemy's  advanced  post  on  Lynch's  creek,  on 
the  road  to  Camden,  leaving  two  brass  field-pieces  and  some  baggage 
for  want  of  horses.  Colonel  Williams,  presuming  on  the  friendship 
of  the  general,  ventured  to  expostulate  with  him  upon  the  seeming 
precipitate  and  inconsiderate  step  he  was  taking.  He  represented  that 
the  country  through  which  he  was  about  to  march  was  by  nature  bar 
ren,  abounding  with  sandy  plains,  intersected  by  swamps,  and  very 
thinly  inhabited ;  that  the  little  provisions  and  forage  which  were  pro 
duced  on  the  banks  of  its  few  small  streams  were  exhausted,  or  taken 
away  by  the  enemy,  and  by  the  hordes  of  banditti  (called  tories),  which 
had  retired  from  what  they  called  the  persecution  of  the  rebels,  and 
who  would  certainly  distress  his  army,  small  as  it  was,  by  removing 
what  little  might  remain  out  of  his  way.  On  the  other  hand,  the  colo 
nel  represented  that  a  route  about  northwest  would  cross  the  Pedee 
river  somewhere  about  where  it  loses  the  name  of  Yadldn,  and  would 
lead  to  the  little  town  of  Salisbury,  in  the  midst  of  a  fertile  country, 
and  inhabited  by  a  people  zealous  in  the  cause  of  America ;  that  the 
most  active  and  intelligent  officers  had  contemplated  this  route  with 
pleasure,  not  only  as  it  promised  a  more  plentiful  supply  of  provisions, 
but  because  the  sick,  the  women  and  children,  and  the  wounded,  in 
case  of  disaster,  might  have  an  asylum  provided  for  them  at  Salisbury 
or  Charlotte,  where  they  would  remain  in  security,  because  the  militia 
of  the  counties  of  Mecklenburg  and  Roan,  in  which  these  villages 
stand,  were  stanch  friends.  The  idea  of  establishing  a  laboratory  for 
16 


APPENDIX. 

the  repair  of  arms  at  a  secure  place,  was  also  suggested  as  neceswtry . 
the  security  of  convoys  of  stores  from  the  northward,  by  the  uppei 
route  ;  the  advantage  of  turning  the  left  of  the  enemy's  outposts,  even 
by  a  circuitous  route ;  that  of  approaching  the  most  considerable  of 
those  posts  (Camden)  with  the  river  Wateree  on  our  right,  and  our 
friends  on  our  backs ;  and  some  other  considerations — were  suggested. 
And,  that  they  might  the  more  forcibly  impress  the  general's  mind,  a 
short  note  was  presented  to  him,  concisely  intimating  the  same  opin 
ion,  and  referring  to  the  best-informed  gentlemen  under  his  command. 
General  Gates  said  he  would  confer  with  the  general  officers  when  the 
troops  should  halt  at  noon.  Whether  any  conference  took  place  or 
not  the  writer  does  not  know.  After  a  short  halt  at  noon,  when  the 
men  were  refreshed  upon  the  scraps  in  their  knapsacks,  the  march  was 
resumed.  The  country  exceeded  the  representation  that  had  been 
made  of  it :  scarcely  had  it  emerged  from  a  state  of  sterile  nature ;  the 
few  rude  attempts  at  improvement  that  were  to  be  found  were  most  of 
them  abandoned  by  the  owners  and  plundered  by  the  neighbors.  Ev- 
eiy  one,  in  this  uncivilized  part  of  the  country,  was  flying  from  his 
home,  and  joining  in  parties,  under  adventurers,  who  pretended  to 
yield  them  protection,  until  the  British  army  should  appear,  which  they 
seemed  confidently  to  expect.  The  distresses  of  the  soldiery  daily  in 
creased.  They  were  told  that  the  banks  of  the  Pedee  river  were  ex 
tremely  fertile — and  so,  indeed,  they  were ;  but  the  preceding  crop  of 
corn  (the  principal  article  of  produce)  was  exhausted,  arid  the  new 
grain,  although  luxuriant  and  line,  was  unfit  for  use.  Many  of  the 
soldiery,  urged  by  necessity,  plucked  the  green  ears  and  boiled  them 
with  the  lean  beef,  which  was  collected  in  the  woods,  made  for  them 
selves  a  repast,  not  unpalatable  to  be  sure,  but  which  was  attended 
with  painful  effects.  Green  peaches  also  were  substituted  for  bread, 
and  had  similar  consequences.  Some  of  the  officers,  aware  of  the  risk 
of  eating  such  vegetables,  and  in  such  a  state,  with  poor  fresh  beef,  and 
without  salt,  restrained  themselves  from  taking  anything  but  the  beef 
itself,  boiled  or  roasted.  It  occurred  to  some  that  the  hair-powder, 
which  remained  in  their  bags,  would  thicken  soup,  and  it  was  actually 
appiieJ.* 

The  trooi  s,  notwithstanding  their  disappointment  in  not  being  over 
taken  by  a  supply  of  rum  and  provisions,  were  again  amused  with 
promises,  and  gave  early  proofs  of  that  patient  submission,  inflexible 
fortitude,  and  undeviating  integrity,  which  they  afterward  more  emi 
nently  displayed. 

On  the  3d  day  of  August  the  little  army  crossed  Pedee  river,  ii» 
batteaux,  at  Mask's  ferry,  and  were  met  on  the  southern  bank  by 
I-iieutenant-CoIonel  Porterfieid,  an  officer  of  merit,  who,  after  the  dis 
aster  at  Charleston,  retired  with  a  small  detachment,  and  found  means 
of  subsisting  himself  and  his  men  in  Carolina  until  the  present  time. 

Colonel  Marion,  a  gentleman  of  South  Carolina,  had  been  with  the 
*  Opt«in  W.  D.  Beale,  &3 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OP    1780.  363 

army  a  few  days,  attended  by  a  very  few  followers,  distinguished  by 
small  black  leather  caps  and  the  wretchedness  of  their  attire.  Their 
number  did  not  exceed  twenty  men  and  boys,  some  white,  some  black, 
and  all  mounted,  but  most  of  them  miserably  equipped  ;  their  appear 
ance  was  in  fact  so  burlesque,  that  it  was  with  much  difficulty  tho 
diversion  of  the  regular  soldiery  was  restrained  by  the  officers;  and 
the  general  himself  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  of  detaching  Colonel 
Marion,  at  his  own  instance,  toward  the  interior  of  South  Carolina, 
with  orders  to  watch  the  motions  of  the  enemy,  and  furnish  intelli 
gence. 

These  trifling  circumstances  are  remembered  in  these  notes,  to  show 
from  what  contemptible  beginnings  a  good  capacity  will  rise  to  dis 
tinction.  The  history  of  the  war  in  South  Carolina  will  recognise 
Marion  as  a  brave  partisan,  if  only  the  actions  of  the  last  two  years' 
campaigns  are  recorded. 

The  expectation,  founded  on  assurances  of  finding  a  plentiful  sup 
ply  of  provisions  at  May's  mill,  induced  the  troops  again  to  obey  the 
order  to  march  with  cheerfulness ;  but  being  again  disappointed,  fa 
tigued,  and  almost  famished,  their  patience  began  to  forsake  them. 
Their  looks  began  to  be  vindictive,  mutiny  was  ready  to  manifest  it 
self,  and  the  most  unhappy  consequences  were  to  be  apprehended — 
when  the  regimental  officers,  by  mixing  among  the  men  and  remon 
strating  with  them,  appeased  murmurs,  for  which  unhappily  there  was 
too  much  cause.  The  officers,  however,  by  appealing  to  their  own 
empty  canteens  and  mess-cases,  satisfied  the  privates  that  all  suffered 
alike ;  and,  exhorting  them  to  exercise  the  same  fortitude  of  which  the 
officers  gave  them  the  example,  assured  them  that  the  best  means  of 
extricating  them  from  the  present  distress  should  be  immediately  adopt 
ed  ;  that  if  the  supplies  expected  by  the  general  did  not  arrive  very 
soon,  detachments  should  go  from  each  corps,  in  all  directions,  to  pick 
up  what  grain  might  possibly  be  found  in  the  country,  and  bring  it  to 
the  mill. 

Fortunately,  a  small  quantity  of  Indian  corn  was  immediately  brought 
into  camp  ;  the  mill  was  set  to  work,  and  as  soon  as  a  mess  of  meal  was 
ground  it  was  delivered  to  the  men ;  and  so,  in  rotation,  they  were  all 
served  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours.  More  poor  cattle  were  sacrificed, 
the  camp-kettles  were  all  engaged,  the  men  were  busy,  but  silent,  until 
they  had  each  taken  his  repast ;  and  then  all  was  again  content,  cheer 
fulness,  and  mirth.  It  was  as  astonishing  as  it  was  pleasing  to  observe 
the  transition. 

The  general  and  field  officers  were  not  the  first  served  upon  this  oc 
casion,  nor  were  they  generally  the  most  satisfied ;  but,  as  no  one  could 
point  out  the  means  of  immediate  redress,  no  remonstrances  took  place 
with  the  commanding  officer.  The  commanding  officer,  however,  was 
well  informed  of  what  was  passing  in  the  camp,  and  of  the  critical  dis 
position  of  the  troops.  Impressed  by  a  sense  of  difficulties,  and  per 
haps  conceiving  himself  in  some  degree  accountable  to  the  army  foi 


SG4  APPENDIX. 

the  steps  he  had  taken,  he  told  Colonel  Williams,  who  acted  as  deputy 
adjutant-general  to  the  southern  army,  that  he  had,  in  a  measure,  been 
forced  to  take  the  route  he  had  done ;  that  General  Caswell  had  evaded 
every  order  which  had  been  sent  to  him,  as  well  by  the  baron  De  Kalb 
as  himself,  to  form  a  junction  of  the  militia  with  the  regular  corps ; 
that  it  appeared  to  him  that  Caswell's  vanity  was  gratified  by  having 
a  separate  command  ;  that  probably  he  contemplated  some  enterprise 
to  distinguish  himself  and  gratify  his  ambition,  "  which,"  said  he,  "  I 
should  not  be  sorry  to  see  checked  by  a  rap  over  the  knuckles,  if  it 
were  not  that  the  militia  would  disperse,  and  leave  this  handful  of 
brave  men  without  even  nominal  assistance."  He  urged  further  that 
it  was  the  more  necessary  to  counteract  the  indiscretion  of  Caswell, 
and  save  him  from  disaster,  as  he  then  commanded  the  only  corps  of 
militia  that  were  embodied  in  the  Carolinas ;  that  the  assurances  he 
had  received  from  the  executive  of  North  Carolina  gave  him  cause  to 
suspect  that  supplies  of  provisions  had  been  forwarded  and  used  in  pro 
fusion  in  Caswell's  camp,  notwithstanding  intimations  had  been  com 
municated  to  him  that  the  militia  were  in  as  bad  a  situation  in  that 
respect  as  the  regular  corps ;  that,  moreover,  having  marched  thus  far 
directly  toward  the  enemy,  a  retrograde  or  indirect  movement  would 
not  only  dispirit  the  troops,  but  intimidate  the  people  of  the  country, 
many  of  whom  had  come  in  with  their  arms,  or  sent  their  submissions 
to  the  general — promising,  upon  his  engagement  to  indemnify  them 
for  what  had  passed,  to  assemble  themselves  under  their  own  leaders 
and  follow  the  colors  of  the  Union.  The  poverty  of  the  country  and 
the  ptrfidy  of  the  people  were  in  vain  opposed  to  these  agreements, 
and  in  fact  the  troops  had  penetrated  so  far,  as  to  make  it  even  as  haz 
ardous  to  return  or  file  off  for  the  upper  country  as  to  advance. 

Dangerous  as  deceptions  had  been,  it  was  still  thought  expedient  to 
flatter  the  expectation  of  the  soldiery  with  an  abundance  of  provisions 
so  soon  as  a  junction  could  be  formed  with  the  militia.  Therefore, 
after  collecting  all  the  corn  which  was  to  be  found  in  the  neighborhood 
of  May's  mill,  and  huckstering  all  the  meal  that  could  be  spared  from 
our  present  necessities,  the  march  was  resumed  toward  Camden. 

On  the  5th  day  of  August,  in  the  afternoon,  General  Gates  received 
a  letter,  informing  him  that  General  Caswell  meditated  an  attack  upon 
a  fortified  post  of  the  enemy  on  Lynch's  creek,  about  fourteen  miles 
from  the  militia  encampment.  More  anxious  than  ever,  General  Gates 
urged  on  the  march  of  the  regulars.  Whatever  the  men  suffered,  and 
whatever  they  thought,  the  example  of  the  officers,  who  shared  with 
them  every  inconvenience,  repressed  the  murmurs  which  were  hourly 
expected  to  break  forth.  The  next  morning  orders  were  issued  for  the 
army  to  march  with  the  utmost  expedition  to  join  the  militia,  under  tho 
idea  that  it  was  the  only  expedient  to  gain  a  supply  of  provisions ;  but 
another  and  more  vexatious  cause  to  General  Gates  was,  a  letter  from 
General  Caswell,  advising  him  that  he  had  every  reason  to  apprehend 
an  attack  on  his  camp  by  the  garrison  from  Lynch's  creek  (the  vert 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OP    1780.  365 

garrison  which  he,  the  day  before,  had  determined  to  assault,  for  there 
was  no  possibility  of  surprising  troops  so  situated),  and  requesting  Gen 
eral  Gates  to  reinforce  him  with  all  possible  despatch. 

One  of  Caswell's  letters  began — "  Sir,  General  W ,  my  aid* 

de-camp"  The  ostentation  of  this  address  weakened  the  little  confi 
dence  which  the  general-in-chief  might  have  had  in  the  major-general's 
capacity  for  command,  and  increased  his  desire  to  have  all  the  forces 
under  his  immediate  direction.  Such  evasions  of  orders,  such  pre 
tences  to  enterprise,  and  such  sudden  signs  of  intimidation,  in  the  mili 
tia  general,  determined  Gates  to  reach  his  camp  in  person  that  same 
day,  although  it  was  impracticable,  without  retreating  the  militia,  for  a 
junction  to  be  formed  until  the  next.  The  deputy  adjutant-general 
had  the  honor  of  attending  the  general  commandant  to  the  headquar 
ters  of  the  commandant  of  the  militia.  The  reception  was  gracious, 
and  the  general  and  his  suite  were  regaled  with  wine  and  other  novel 
ties,  exquisitely  grateful  and  pleasingly  exhilarating ;  but  a  man  must 
have  been  intoxicated,  not  to  perceive  the  confusion  which  prevailed  in 
the  camp  :  tables,  chairs,  bedsteads,  benches,  and  many  other  articles 
of  heavy  and  cumbrous  household  stuff,  were  scattered  before  the  tent 
doors  in  great  disorder. 

.  It  was  understood  that  General  Caswell  had  discovered,  upon  the 
last  alarm,  that,  by  the  death  of  horses  and  breaking  down  of  carriages, 
he  was  rendered  unable  to  move,  and  was  making  an  effort  to  divest 
himself  then  of  his  heavy  baggage.  (If,  in  these  notes,  a  tenor,  censo 
rious  of  General  Caswell's  conduct,  appears  to  the  reader,  the  write: 
begs  that  it  may  not,  as  it  ought  not  to  be,  imputed  to  any  personal 
prejudice  or  malicious  motive.  He  never  had  the  honor  of  seeing  the 
general  until  this  time,  and  all  that  he  had  ever  heard  of  him  was  ex 
tremely  favorable  to  his  character  as  a  gentleman  and  a  patriot.  A 
regard  to  facts,  to  which  the  writer  thinks  he  may  possibly  hereafter  be 
called  to  testify  on  oath,  obliges  him  to  state  them  faithfully  as  they 
occurred,  or  were  communicated  to  him — preserving  the  memory  of 
authorities,  as  well  as  incidents,  in  order  to  a  correct  statement  of  the 
circumstances  about  which  he  may  be  interrogated.) 

On  the  17th  of  August,  the  wished-for  junction  took  place  at  the 
cross  roads,  about  fifteen  miles  east  of  the  enemy's  post  on  Lynch's 
creek. 

This  event  enlivened  the  countenances  of  all  parties :  the  militia 
were  relieved  from  their  apprehensions  of  an  attack,  and  the  regulars, 
forgetting  their  fatigues,  and  disdaining  to  betray  the  least  appearance 
of  discontent,  exulted  in  the  confidence  with  which  they  inspired  their 
new  comrades  ;  a  good  understanding  prevailed  among  the  officers  of 
all  ranks,  and  General  Caswell  seemed  satisfied  with  the  honor  of 
being  the  third  in  command. 

The  baron  De  Kalb  commanded  the  right  wing  of  the  army,  com. 
posed  of  the  regular  troops,  and  General  Caswell  the  left,  of  militia. 

After  the  junction,  which  happened  about  noon,  the  army  marched 


366  APPENDIX. 

a  few  miles  toward  the  enemy's  post  on  Lynch's  creek,  and  encamped 
in  order. 

The  deputy  adjutant-general,  who  had  as  much  anxiety  as  if  he  had 
been  personally  responsible  for  the  fate  of  the  army,  in  order  to  observe 
what  guards  were  established  for  the  safety  of  the  left  wing,  went  with 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Ford  (officer  of  the  day),  at  an  unusual  hour,  to 
inspect  the  lines.  The  guards  and  sentinels  of  the  right  wing  were, 
as  usual,  attentive,  and  hailed  the  visiting  rounds  with  that  alaciity 
and  spirit  which  inspired  a  confidence  of  security  in  that  quarter ;  but 
in  the  left  wing  all  was  tranquil.  The  officers  patrolled  around  the 
encampment  without  being  hailed  once ;  and  then  rode  into  the  lines, 
and  among  the  tents,  and  even  approached  the  marquees  of  some  of 
the  general  and  field  officers — one  of  whom  complained  of  being  dis 
turbed,  and  intimated  that  it  was  an  unseasonable  hour  for  gentlemen 
to  call.  The  officers  of  the  preceding  day  were  sent  for,  and  guards 
and  patrols  sent  out  to  secure  the  encampment  from  surprise. 

The  morning  of  the  8th  of  August  dawned  without  revealing  any 
appearance  of  an  enemy. 

Under  the  judicious  mask  of  offensive  operations,  the  commanding 
officer  of  the  post  on  Lynch's  creek  evacuated  it  and  retired  unmolested 
and  at  leisure  to  a  much  stronger  position  on  Little  Lynch's  creek, 
within  a  day's  march  of  Camden — which  last  was  strongly  fortified, 
and  had  a  considerable  garrison  under  the  command  of  Lord  Rawdon. 

The  small  posts  which  the  enemy  had  advanced  into  the  country 
were  calculated  to  cover  the  parties  which  were  sent  in  all  directions 
to  collect  the  forage  and  provisions  that  might  be  found  on  the  waters 
of  Lynch's  creek  and  Black  rivers ;  and  this  business  having  been 
already  effected,  the  posts  were  no  longer  an  object  to  them. 

General  Gates  saw  himself  master  of  the  field,  but  it  was  a  barren 
one.  The  troops  still  subsisted  upon  precarious  supplies  of  corn  meal 
and  lean  beef,  of  which  they  often  did  not  receive  half  a  ration  per 
day,  and  no  possibility  existed  of  doing  better,  without  departing  from 
the  route  which  the  general  had  all  along  pertinaciously  persisted  in. 
To  have  descended  among  the  fertile  fields  of  Black  river,  would  have 
been  leaving  the  garrison  of  Camden  between  the  army  and  the  ex 
pected  reinforcements  from  Virginia.  Besides,  the  refugees  of  North 
Carolina  repeated  their  assurances  of  joining  in  considerable  numbers 
in  a  few  days. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Wa'xhaw  settlement  offered  the  greatest 
prospect  of  a  comfortable  supply  of  provisions,  but  it  could  not  be  gained 
under  two  or  three  days'  march ;  it  lay  too  much  out  of  the  way ;  the 
movement  would  look  like  retreating  from  the  enemy,  and  the  swamp 
ers,  as  the  expected  volunteers  were  called,  would  surely  desert  the 
cause.  There  was  no  deciding — there  was  no  delaying:  the  army 
marched  unconscious  what  step  was  next  to  be  taken.  General  Gates, 
however,  began  to  perceive  the  danger  of  approaching  an  enemy  of 
whose  numbers  he  had  no  certain  intelligence,  encumbered  as  he  was 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OP    1780.  367 

with  an  enormous  train  of  heavy  baggage,  a  multitude  of  women,  and 
not  a  few  children.  An  effort  was  therefore  formed  under  Major  Dean, 
and  a  number  of  wagons  were  appointed  to  convey  to  Charlotte  all  the 
heavy  baggage,  and  as  many  of  the  women  as  could  be  driven  from 
the  line ;  many  of  the  latter,  however,  preferred  sharing  every  toil  and 
every  danger  with  the  soldiery,  to  the  security  and  provisions  that  were 
promised  them.  The  army  advanced,  but,  approaching  the  enemy'u 
post  on  Little  Lynch's  creek,  it  was  discovered  by  good  intelligence  to 
be  situated  on  the  south  side  of  the  water,  on  commanding  ground ; 
that  the  way  leading  to  it  was  over  a  causeway  on  the  north  side  to  a 
wooden  bridge,  which  stood  on  very  steep  banks ;  and  that  the  creek 
lay  in  a  deep,  muddy  channel,  bounded  on  the  north  by  an  extensive 
swamp,  and  passable  nowhere  for  several  miles  but  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy's  work.  The  enemy  was  not  disposed  to  abandon  these  advan 
tages,  without  feeling  the  pulse  of  the  approaching  army ;  and  General 
Gates  observed  that,  to  attack  him  in  front,  "  would  be  taking  the  bull 
by  the  horns."  It  was  necessary,  for  once,  to  depart  from  the  shortest 
route  to  the  enemy's  principal  outpost,  Camden.  The  army  defiled  by 
the  right,  and  Colonel  Hall,  of  Maryland,  with  a  detachment  of  about 
three  hundred  men,  covered  the  left  flank  until  it  was  out  of  danger 
from  surprise,  and  then  formed  the  rear-guard.  This  manoeuvre,  on 
the  llth  of  August,  induced  the  garrison  to  retire  with  some  precipi 
tation  to  Camden,  and  about  the  same  time  the  British  garrison  which 
had  occupied  Clermont  (or  Rugley's  mills),  on  the  north  road,  retired 
to  the  same  place. 

Lord  Rawdon,  who  commanded  the  advanced  corps  of  the  British 
army,  wisely  collected  his  whole  force  at  Camden,  which,  besides  being 
flanked  by  the  river  Wateree  and  Pinetree  creek,  was  considerably 
strengthened  by  a  number  of  redoubts. 

As  his  lordship's  emissaries  were  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  he  could 
not  fail  to  be  informed  that  General  Gates  was  in  his  neighborhood 
with  a  brigade  of  regular  troops  and  two  brigades  of  militia,  besides 
some  small  corps  of  artillery  and  cavalry;  that  Brigadier-General  Ste 
vens  was  on  the  same  route  with  a  brigade  of  Virginia  militia ;  that 
Colonel  Marion  below,  and  Colonel  Sumter  above  Camden,  were  stim 
ulating  their  countrymen  to  reassume  their  arms ;  and  that,  in  short, 
the  whole  country  were  ready  to  revolt  from  the  allegiance  which  had 
been  extorted  from  them  but  a  few  weeks  before.  Ke  therefore  per 
mitted  General  Gates  to  march  unmolested  to  Clermont  (where  the 
Americans  encamped  on  the  13th),  and  employed  his  men  in  strength 
ening  his  post  for  defence,  until  reinforrements  might  arrive  from 
Charleston,  where  Lord  Cornwall  is  was  left  in  command,  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  having  returned  to  New  York  soon  after  the  reduction  of  the 
former  city. 

Brigadier-General  Stevens  arrived  with  his  Virginians  at  Clermont 
on  the  14th,  and  encamped  with  the  rest  of  the  army.  On  the  same 
•Jay  (or  the  15th)  an  inhabitant  of  Camden  came,  as  if  by  accident,  into 


368  APPENDIX. 

the  American  encampment,  and  was  conducted  to  headquarters.  R« 
affected  ignorance  of  the  approach  of  the  Americans,  pretended  very 
great  friendship  for  his  countrymen  the  Marylanders,  and  promised  the 
general  to  be  out  again  in  a  few  days  with  all  the  information  the  gen 
eral  wished  to  obtain.  The  information  which  he  then  gave  was  the 
truth,  but  not  all  the  truth,  which  events  afterward  revealed ;  yet,  so 
plausible  was  his  manner,  that  General  Gates  dismissed  him,  with  many 
promises  if  he  would  faithfully  observe  his  engagements.  Suspicions 
arose  in  the  breasts  of  some  of  the  officers  about  headquarters  that  this 
man's  errand  was  easily  accomplished  ;  the  credulity  of  the  general  was 
not  arraigned,  but  it  was  conceived  that  it  would  have  been  prudent  to 
have  detained  the  man  for  further  acquaintance. 

Colonel  Sumter,  of  the  South-Carolina  militia,  had  intelligence  that 
an  escort  with  clothing,  ammunition,  and  other  stores,  for  the  troops  at 
Camden,  was  on  the  road  from  Charleston,  by  way  of  M'Cord's  ferry 
on  the  Congaree,  and  that  it  would  necessarily  pass  the  Wateree  at  a 
ferry  about  a  mile  from  the  town,  under  cover  of  a  redoubt  on  the  op 
posite  side  of  the  river.  This  intelligence  he  communicated  to  the  gen 
eral,  requesting  a  small  reinforcement  of  infantry  and  two  small  pieces 
of  artillery  to  join  his  volunteers,  promising  to  intercept  the  convoy 
The  colonel's  accurate  knowledge  of  the  geography  of  the  country,  and 
the  qualities  of  the  men  who  were  his  followers,  favored  the  execution 
of  this  enterprise.  The  general  ordered  a  detachment  of  one  hundred 
regular  infantry,  and  a  party  of  artillery  with  two  brass  field- pieces, 
under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Woolford,  to  join  Colonel  Sumter,  and  act 
under  his  command. 

To  attract  the  attention  of  the  garrison  in  Camden,  if  they  did  not 
choose  to  retire — which  seemed  to  be  but  too  confidently  expected — and 
to  facilitate  the  execution  of  the  little  expedition  under  Sumter,  all 
other  objects  seemed  to  be  suspended. 

The  only  stores  which  were  forwarded  to  the  army  by  General  Ste 
vens  were  a  few  articles  of  West-India  produce,  the  principal  of  which 
was  molasses.  No  supply  of  provisions  of  any  sort  was  collected  more 
than  to  serve  from  day  to  day.  The  obscure  route  the  army  had 
marched  actually  kept  their  friends  ignorant  of  their  movements ;  and 
the  arrival  of  General  Gates  at  Clermont  was,  when  known,  a  subject 
of  more  surprise  to  the  patriots  than  to  the  enemies  of  the  country.  It 
is  probable,  and  in  the  opinion  of  many  a  matter  of  no  doubt  whatever, 
that  if  General  Gates  had  taken  a  secure  position  with  his  army,  and 
waited  only  a  few  days,  abundance  of  provisions  would  have  flowed 
into  his  carnp;  and  that,  by  ihe  addition  of  volunteers  from  the  Caro- 
linas,  he  would  have  acquired  such  a  superiority  over  the  British  army, 
which  did  not  much  exceed  four  thousand  men,  that  he  would  have 
found  no  difficulty  in  recovering  the  country  as  far  as  Charleston :  but 
opinions  are  fruitless.  On  the  loth  of  August,  1780,  General  Gates 
issued  the  following: — 

AFTEH  GENERAL  OUDKHS. — "The  sick,  the  extra  artillery  stores, 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OF    1780.  369 

the  heavy  baggage,  and  such  quartermaster's  stores  as  are  not  imrne* 
diately  wanted,  to  march  this  evening,  under  a  guard,  to  Waxhaws. 

"  To  this  order  the  general  requests  the  brigadier-generals  to  see  that 
those  under  their  commaiid  pay  the  most  exact  and  scrupulous  obe 
dience. 

"  Lieutenant-Colonel  Edmonds,  with  the  remaining  guns  of  the  park, 
will  take  post  and  march  with  the  Virginia  brigade,  under  Genera] 
Stevens;  he  will  direct,  as  any  deficiency  happens  in  the  artillery 
affixed  to  the  other  brigades,  to  supply  it  immediately ;  his  military 
staff  and  a  proportion  of  his  officers,  with  forty  of  his  men,  are  to  attend 
him  and  await  his  orders. 

"  The  troops  will  be  ready  to  march  precisely  at  ten  o'clock,  in  the 
following  order,  viz. : — 

"  Colonel  Armand's  advance ;  cavalry  commanded  by  Colonel  Ar- 
mand  ;  Colonel  Porterfield's  light  infantry  upon  tli$  right  flank  of  Colo 
nel  Armand,  in  Indian  file,  two  hundred  yards  from  the  road ;  Major 
Armstrong's  light  infantry  in  the  same  order  as  Colonel  Porterfield's, 
upon  the  left  flank  of  the  legion. 

"  Advance  guard  of  foot,  composed  of  the  advanced  pickets,  first 
brigade  of  Maryland,  second  brigade  "of  Maryland,  division  of  North 
Carolina,  Virginia  division ;  rear-guard,  volunteer  cavalry,  upon  the 
flank  of  the  baggage,  equally  divided. 

"  In  this  order  the  troops  will  proceed  on  their  march  this  night. 

'•  In  case  of  an  attack  by  the  enemy's  cavalry  in  front,  the  light  in 
fantry  upon  each  flank  will  instantly  move  up,  and  give  and  continue 
the  most  galling  fire  upon  the  enemy's  horse.  This  will  enable  Colo 
nel  Armand  not  only  to  support  the  shock  of  the  enemy's  charge,  but 
finally  to  rout  them  ;  the  colonel  will  therefore  consider  the  order  to 
stand  the  attack  of  the  enemy's  cavalry,  be  their  numbers  what  they 
may,  as  positive. 

"  General  Stevens  will  immediately  order  one  captain,  two  lieuten 
ants,  one  ensign,  three  sergeants,  one  drum,  and  sixty  rank  and  file,  to 
join  Colonel  Porterfield's  infantry  ;  these  are  to  be  taken  from  the 
most  experienced  woodsmen,  and  men  every  way  the  fittest  for  the 
service. 

"  General  Caswell  will  likewise  complete  Major  Armstrong's  light 
infantry  to  their  original  number.  These  must  be  immediately  marched 
to  the  advanced  posts  of  the  army. 

"  The  troops  will  observe  the  profoundest  silence  upon  the  march ; 
and  any  soldier  who  offers  to  fire  without  the  command  of  his  officer, 
must  be  instantly  put  to  death. 

"  When  the  ground  will  admit  of  it,  and  the  near  approach  of  the 
enemy  renders  it  necessary,  the  army  will  (when  ordered)  march  in 
columns. 

"  The  artillery  at  the  head  of  their  respective  brigades,  and  the  bag 
gage  in  the  rear. 

"The  guard  of  the  heavy  b:\ggage  will  bo  composed  (if  the  remain- 
16* 


370  APPENDIX. 

ing  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  artillery,  one  captain,  two  subalterns, 
four  sergeants,  one  drum,  and  sixty  rank  and  file;  and  no  person  what 
ever  is  to  presume  to  send  any  other  soldier  upon  that  service. 

"All  bat-men,  waiters,  &c.,  who  are  soldiers  taken  from  the  line,  are 
forthwith  to  join  their  regiments,  and  act  with  their  masters  while  they 
are  upon  duty. 

"  The  tents  of  the  whole  army  are  to  be  struck  at  tattoo." 

After  writing  this  order,  the  general  communicated  it  to  the  deputy 
adjutant-general,  showing-  him.  at  the  same  time,  a  rough  estimate  of 
the  forces  under  his  command,  making  them  upward  of  seven  thou 
sand.  That  this  calculation  was  exaggerated  the  deputy  adjutant-gen 
eral  could  not  but  suspect,  from  his  own  observation.  He,  therefore 
availed  himself  of  the  general's  orders,  to  call  all  the  general  officers  in 
the  army  to  a  council  to  be  held  in  Rugley's  barn — to  call  also  upon  the 
commanding  officers  of  corps  for  a  field  return,  in  making  which  they 
were  to  be  as  exact  as  possible ;  and,  as  he  was  not  required  to  attend 
the  council,  he  busied  himself  in  collecting  these  returns  and  forming 
an  abstract  for  the  general's  better  information.  This  abstract  was  pre 
sented  to  the  general  just  as  the  council  broke  up,  and  immediately 
upon  his  coming  out  of  the  door.  He  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  numbers 
of  rank  and  file  present  fit  for  duty,  which  was  exactly  three  thousand 
and  fifty-two.  He  said  there  were  no  less  than  thirteen  general  offi 
cers  in  council ;  and  intimated  something  about  the  disproportion  be 
tween  the  numbers  of  officers  and  privates.  It  was  replied,  "  Sir,  the 
number  of  the  latter  is  certainly  much  below  the  estimate  formed  this 
morning." — "  But,''  said  the  general,  "  these  are  enough  for  our  pur 
pose."  What  that  was,  was  not  communicated  to  the  deputy  adjutant 
general.  The  general  only  added,  "  There  was  no  dissenting  voice  in 
the  council,  where  the  orders  have  just  been  read" — and  then  gave 
them  to  be  published  to  the  army. 

Although  there  had  been  no  dissenting  voice  in  the  council,  the  or 
ders  were  no  sooner  promulgated  than  they  became  the  subject  of  ani 
madversion.  Even  those  who  had  been  dumb  in  council,  said  that 
there  had  been  no  consultation  ;  that  the  orders  were  read  to  them,  and 
all  opinion  seemed  suppressed  by  the  very  positive  and  decisive  terms 
in  which  they  were  expressed.  Others  could  not  imagine  how  it  could 
be  conceived  that  an  army,  consisting  of  more  than  two  thirds  militia, 
and  which  had  never  been  once  exercised  in  arms  together,  could  form 
columns,  and  perform  other  manoeuvres  in  the  night,  and  in  the  face 
of  an  enemy.  But,  of  all  the  officers,  Colonel  Armand  took  the  greatest 
exception.  He  seemed  to  think  the  positive  orders  respecting  himself 
implied  a  doubt  of  his  courage ;  declared  that  cavalry  had  never  before 
been  put  in  the  front  of  a  line  of  battle  in  the  dark ;  and  that  the  dis 
position,  as  it  respected  his  corps,  proceeded  from  resentment  in  the 
general,  on  account  of  a  previous  altercation  between  them  about  horses, 
which  the  general  had  ordered  to  be  taken  from  the  officers  of  the  army 
to  expedite  the  movement  of  the  artillery  through  the  wilderness.  A 


BOU'UIF.KN    ARMY — CAMPAIGN    OF    1780.  371 

great  deal  was  said  upon  the  occasion ;  but  the  time  was  short,  and  the 
officers  and  soldiers  generally  not  knowing  or  believing,  any  more  than 
the  general,  that  any  considerable  body  of  the  enemy  were  to  be  met 
with  out  of  Camden,  acquiesced  with  their  usual  cheerfulness,  and  were 
ready  to  march  at  the  hour  appointed. 

As  there  were  no  spirits  yet  arrived  in  camp,  and  as  until  lately  it 
was  unusual  for  troops  to  make  a  forced  march,  or  prepare  to  meet  an 
enemy,  without  some  extraordinary  allowance,  it  was  unluckily  con 
ceived  that  molasses  would,  for  once,  be  an  acceptable  substitute :  ac 
cordingly  the  hospital  stores  were  broached,  and  one  gill  of  molasses 
per  man,  and  a  full  ration  of  corn-meal  and  meat,  were  issued  to  the 
army  previous  to  their  march,  which  commenced,  according  to  orders, 
at  about  ten  o'clock  at  night  of  the  15th.  (But  I  must  arrest  the  prog 
ress  of  the  narrative  to  apologize  for  introducing  a  remark  seemingly  so 
trivial.  Nothing  ought  to  be  considered  as  trivial  in  an  army  which 
iu  any  degree  affects  the  health  or  spirits  of  the  troops ;  upon  which 
often,  more  than  upon  numbers,  the  fate  of  battles  depends.  The 
troops  of  General  Gates's  army  had  frequently  felt  the  bad  consequence? 
of  eating  bad  provision ;  but  at  this  time,  a  hasty  meal  of  quick-baked 
bread  and  fresh  beef,  with  a  dessert  of  molasses  mixed  with  mush  or 
dumplings,  operated  so  cathartically  as  to  disorder  very  many  of  the 
men,  who  were  breaking  the  ranks  all  night,  and  were  certainly  much 
debi  itated  before  the  action  commenced  in  the  morning.) 

It  has  been  observed  that  the  direct  march  of  the  American  army 
toward  Camden,  and  the  prospect  of  considerable  reinforcements  of 
militia,  had  induced  the  commanding  officer,  Lord  Rawdon,  to  collect 
there  all  the  forces  under  his  direction  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  the  seem 
ing  confidence  of  the  American  general  had  inspired  him  with  appre 
hensions  for  his  principal  post.  Lord  Cornwallis,  at  Charleston,  was 
constantly  advised  of  the  posture  of  affairs  in  the  interior  of  the  country  ; 
and,  confident  that  Lord  Rawdon  could  not  long  resist  the  forces  that 
might  and  probably  would  be  opposed  to  him  in  a  very  short  time,  re 
solved  to  march  himself,  with  a  considerable  reinforcement,  to  Camden. 
He  arrived  there  on  the  14th,  and  had  the  discernment  at  once  to  per 
ceive  that  delay  would  render  that  situation  dangerous,  even  to  his 
whole  force — the  disaffection  from  his  late  assumed,  arbitrary,  and  vin 
dictive  power,  having  become  general  through  all  the  country  above 
General  Gates's  line  of  march,  as  well  as  to  the  eastward  of  Santee 
and  to  the  westward  of  Wateree  rivers.  He  therefore  took  the  resolu 
tion  of  attacking  the  newly-constituted  American  army  in  their  open, 
irregular  encampment  at  Clermont.  Both  armies,  ignorant  of  each 
other's  intentions,  moved  about  the  same  hour  of  the  same  night,  and 
approaching  each  other,  met  about  half  way  between  their  respective 
encampments  at  midnight. 

The  first  revelation  of  this  new  and  unexpected  scene  was  occa 
sioned  by  a  smart  mutual  salutation  of  small-arms  between  the  ad 
vanced  guards.  Some  of  the  cavalry  of  Armand's  legion  were  wounded, 


$72  APPENDIX. 

retreated,  and  threw  the  whole  corps  into  disorder — which,  recoiling 
suddenly  on  the  front  of  the  column  of  infantry,  disordered  the  first 
Maryland  brigade,  and  occasioned  a  general  consternation  through  the 
whole  line  of  the  army.  The  light  infantry  under  Porterfield,  however, 
executed  their  orders  gallantly  ;  and  the  enemy,  no  Loss  astonished  than 
ourselves,  seemed  to  acquiesce  in  a  sudden  suspension  of  hostilities. 
Some  prisoners  were  taken  on  both  sides.  From  one  of  these  the  dep 
uty  adjutant-general  of  the  American  army  extorted  information  re 
specting  the  situation  and  numbers  of  the  enemy.  He  informed  that 
Lord  Cornwallis  commanded  in  person  about  three  thousand  regular 
British  troops,  which  were  in  line  of  march  about  five  or  six  hundred 
yards  in  front.  Order  was  soon  restored  in  the  corps  of  infantry  in  the 
American  army,  and  the  officers  were  employed  in  forming  a  frontline 
of  battle,  when  the  deputy  adjutant-general  communicated  to  General 
Gates  the  information  which  he  had  from  the  prisoner.  The  general's 
astonishment  could  not  be  concealed.  He  ordered  the  deputy  adjutant- 
general  to  call  another  council  of  war.  All  the  general  officers  imme 
diately  assembled  in  the  rear  of  the  line.  The  unwelcome  news  was 
communicated  to  them.  General  Gates  said,  "  Gentlemen,  what  is  best 
to  be  done  ?"  All  were  mute  for  a  few  moments,  when  the  gallant 
Stevens  exclaimed,  "  Gentlemen,  is  it  not  too  late  now  to  do  anything 
but  fight  1"  No  other  advice  was  offered,  and  the  general  desired  that 
the  gentlemen  would  repair  to  their  respective  commands. 

The  baron  De  Kalb's  opinion  may  be  inferred  from  the  following 
fact.  When  the  deputy  adjutant-general  went  to  call  him  to  council, 
he  first  told  him  what  had  been  discovered.  "  Well,"  said  the  baron, 
"and  has  the  general  given  you  orders  to  retreat  the  army  1"  The 
baron,  however,  did  not  oppose  the  suggestion  of  General  Stevens,  and 
every  measure  that  ensued  was  preparatory  for  action. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Porterfield,  in  whose  bravery  and  judicious  con 
duct  great  dependence  was  placed,  received  in  the  first  rencontre  a  mor 
tal  wound  (as  it  long  afterward  proved),  and  was  obliged  to  retire. 
His  infantry  bravely  kept  the  ground  in  front,  and  the  American  army 
was  formed  in  the  following  order:  the  Maryland  division,  including 
the  Delawares,  on  the  right ;  the  North-Carolina  militia  in  the  centre , 
and  the  Virginia  militia  on  the  left.  It  happened  that  each  flank  was 
covered  by  a  marsh,  so  near  as  to  admit  the  removing  of  the  first  Ma 
ryland  brigade  to  form  a  second  line,  about  two  hundred  yards  in  the 
rear  of  the  first.  The  artillery  was  removed  from  the  centre  of  the 
brigades,  and  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  front  line ;  and  the  North- 
Carolina  militia  (light  infantry),  under  Major  Armstrong,  which  had 
retreated  at  the  first  rencontre,  was  ordered  to  cover  a  small  interva. 
between  the  left  wing  and  the  swampy  grounds  on  that  quarter. 

Frequent  skirmishes  happened  during  the  night  between  the  ad 
vanced  parties,  which  served  to  discover  the  relative  situations  of  tin 
two  armies,  and  as  a  prelude  to  what  was  to  take  place  in  the  morning 

At  dawn  of  day  (on  the  morning  of  the  /6th  of  August)  the  enemy 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OF    1780.  373 

ippeared  in  front,  advancing  in  column.  Captain  Singleton,  who  com 
manded  some  pieces  of  artillery,  observed  to  Colonel  Williams  that  he 
plainly  perceived  the  ground  of  the  British  uniform  at  about  two  hun 
dred  yards  in  front.  The  deputy  adjutant-general  immediately  ordered 
Captain  Singleton  to  open  his  battery,  and  then  rode  to  the  general, 
who  was  in  the  rear  of  the  second  line,  and  informed  him  of  the  cause 
of  the  firing  which  he  heard.  Pie  also  observed  to  the  general  that  the 
enemy  seemed  to  be  displaying  their  column  by  the  right ;  the  naturo 
of  the  ground  favored  this  conjecture,  for  yet  nothing  was  clear. 

The  general  seemed  disposed  to  wait  events ;  he  gave  no  orders. 
The  deputy  adjutant-general  observed  that  if  the  enemy,  in  the  act  of 
displaying,  were  briskly  attacked  by  General  Stevens's  brigade,  which 
was  already  in  line  of  battle,  the  effect  might  be  fortunate,  and  first 
impressions  were  important.  "Sir,"  said  the  general,  "that's  right — 
let  it  be  done."  This  was  the  last  order  that  the  deputy  adjutant-gen 
eral  received.  He  hastened  to  General  Stevens,  who  instantly  advanced 
with  his  brigade,  apparently  in  fine  spirits.  The  right  wing  of  the  en 
emy  was  soon  discovered  in  line  ;  it  was  too^late  to  attack  them  dis 
playing  ;  nevertheless,  the  business  of  the  day  could  no  longer  be  de 
ferred.  The  deputy  adjutant-general  requested  General  Stevens  to  let 
him  have  forty  or  fifty  privates,  volunteers,  who  would  run  forward  of 
the  brigade  and  commence  the  attack.  They  were  led  forward  within 
forty  or  fifty  yards  of  the  enemy,  and  ordered  to  take  trees  and  keep 
up  as  brisk  a  fire  as  possible.  The  desired  effect  of  this  expedient — to 
extort  the  enemy's  fire  at  some  distance,  in  order  to  the  rendering  it 
less  terrible  to  the  militia — was  not  gained.  General  Stevens,  observ 
ing  the  enemy  to  rush  on,  put  his  men  in  mind  of  their  bayonets ;  but 
the  impetuosity  with  which  they  advanced,  firing  and  huzzaing,  threw 
the  whole  body  of  the  militia  into  such  a  panic,  that  they  generally 
threw  down  their  loaded  arms  and  fled  in  the  utmost  consternation  ! 
The  unworthy  example  of  the  Virginians  was  almost  instantly  followed 
by  the  North-Carolinians  ;  only  a  small  part  of  the  brigade,  commanded 
by  Brigadier-General  Gregory,  made  a  short  pause.  A  part  of  Dixon's 
regiment,  of  that  brigade,  next  in  the  line  to  the  second  Maryland 
brigade,  fired  two  or  three  rounds  of  cartridge.  But  a  great  majority 
of  the  militia  (at  least  two  thirds  of  the  army)  fled  without  firing  a  shot. 
The  writer  avers  it  of  his  own  knowledge,  having  seen  and  observed 
every  part  of  the  army,  from  left  to  right,  during  the  action.  He  who 
has  never  seen  the  effect  of  a  panic  upon  a  multitude,  can  have  but  an 
imperfect  idea  of  such  a  thing.  The  best  disciplined  troops  have  been 
enervated  and  made  cowards  by  it.  Armies  have  been  routed  by  it, 
even  where  no  enemy  appeared  to  furnish  an  excuse.  Like  electricity, 
it  operates  instantaneously — like  sympathy,  it  is  irresistible  where  U 
tooeheSi 

But,  in  the  present  instance,  its  action  was  not  universal.     The  reg 
ular  troops,  who  had  the  keen  edge  of  sensibility  rubbed  off  by  strict 
discipline  and  hard  service,  saw  the  confusion  with  but  little  emotioiy 


J74  APPENDIX. 

They  engaged  seriously  in  the  affair ;  and,  notwithstanding  some  irreg 
ularity,  which  was  created  by  the  militia  breaking  pell-mell  through 
the  second  line,  order  was  restored  there  time  enough  to  give  the  enemy 
a  severe  check,  which  abated  the  fury  of  their  assault,  and  obliged  them 
to  assume  a  more  deliberate  manner  of  acting.  The  second  Maryland 
brigade,  including  the  battalion  of  Delaware?,  on  the  right,  were  en 
gaged  with  the  enemy's  left,  which  they  opposed  with  very  great  firm 
ness.  They  even  advanced  upon  them,  and  had  taken  a  number  of 
prisoners,  when  their  companions  of  the  first  brigade  (which  formed 
the  second  Jirie),  being  greatly  outflanked,  and  charged  by  superior 
numbers,  were  obliged  to  give  ground.  At  this  critical  moment  the 
regimental  officers  of  the  latter  brigade,  reluctant  to  leave  the  field 
without  orders,  inquired  for  their  commanding  officer  (Brigadier-Gen 
eral  Smallwood),  who,  hqwever,  was  not  to  be  found  ;  notwithstanding, 
Colonel  Gunby,  Major  Anderson,  and  a  number  of  other  brave  offi 
cers,  assisted  by  the  deputy  adjutant-general,  and  Major  Jones,  one  of 
Smallwood's  aids,  rallied  the  brigade,  and  renewed  the  contest.  Again 
they  were  obliged  to  give  way,  and  were  again  rallied ;  the  second 
brigade  were  still  warmly  engaged  :  the  distance  between  the  two  brig 
ades  did  not  exceed  two  hundred  yards,  their  opposite  flanks  being 
nearly  upon  a  line  perpendicular  to  their  front.  At  this  eventful  junc 
ture  the  deputy  adjutant-general,  anxious  that  the  communication  be 
tween  them  should  be  preserved,  and  wishing  that,  in  the  almost  cer 
tain  event  of  a  retreat,  some  order  might  be  sustained  by  them,  hastened 
from  the  first  to  the  second  brigade,  which  he  found  precisely  in  the 
same  circumstances.  He  called  upon  his  own  regiment  (the  sixth 
Maryland)  not  to  fly,  and  was  answered  by  the  lieutenant-colonel,  Ford, 
who  said — "  They  have  done  all  that  can  be  expected  of  them  ;  we  are 
outnumbered  and  outflanked.  See,  the  enemy  charge  with  bayonets." 
The  enemy,  having  collected  their  corps,  and  directing  their  whole  force 
against  these  two  devoted  brigades,  a  tremendous  fire  of  musketry  was 
for  some  time  kept  up  on  both  sides,  with  equal  perseverance  and  ob 
stinacy,  until  Lord  Cornwallis,  perceiving  that  there  was  no  cavalry 
opposed  to  him,  pushed  forward  his  dragoons — and  his  infantry  charg 
ing  at  the  same  moment  with  fixed  bayonets,  put  an  end  to  the  con 
test.  His  victory  was  complete.  All  the  artillery  and  a  very  great 
number  of  prisoners  fell  into  his  hands ;  many  fine  fellows  lay  on  the 
field,  and  the  rout  of  the  remainder  was  entire.  Not  even  a  company 
retired  in  any  order ;  every  one  escaped  as  he  could. 

If,  in  this  affair,  the  militia  fled  too  soon,  the  regulars  may  be  thought 
almost  as  blamable  for  remaining  too  long  on  the  field,  especially  after 
all  hope  of  victory  must  have  been  despaired  of.  Let  the  command 
ants  of  the  brigades  answer  for  themselves.  Allow  the  same  privilege 
to  the  officers  of  the  corps  comprising  those  brigades,  and  they  will  say 
that  they  never  received  orders  to  retreat,  nor  any  order  from  any  gen> 
era/  officer,  from  the  commencement  of  the  action  until  it  became  des« 
perate.  The  bravt  major-general,  the  baron  De  Kalb,  fought  on  foot, 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OF    1780.  375 

with  the  second  brigade,  and  fell,  mortally  wounded,  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  who  stripped  him  even  of  his  shirt — a  fate  which  probably 
Was  avoided  by  other  generals  only  by  an  opportune  retreat. 

The  torrent  of  unarmed  militia  bore  away  with  it  Generals  Gates, 
Caswell,  and  a  number  of  others,  who  soon  saw  that  all  was  lost. 
General  Gates  at  first  conceived  a  hope  that  he  might  rally  at  Cler- 
mont  a  sufficient  number  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  regulars  ;  hut,  the 
farther  they  fled,  the  more  they  were  dispersed,  and  the  generals  soon 
found  themselves  abandoned  by  all  but  their  aids. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Senf,  who  had  been  on  the  expedition  with  Colo 
nel  Sumter,  returned,  and  overtaking  General  Gates,  informed  him  of 
their  complete  success ;  that  the  enemy's  redoubt  on  the  Wateree,  op 
posite  to  Camden,  was  first  reduced,  and  the  convoy  of  stores,  &c., 
from  Charleston,  was  decoyed  and  became  a  prize  to  the  American  party 
almost  without  resistance ;  that  upward  of  one  hundred  prisoners  and 
forty  loaded  wagons  were  in  the  hands  of  the  party,  who  had  sustained 
very  little  loss.  But  the  general  could  avail  himself  nothing  of  this 
trifling  advantage.  The  detachment  under  Sumter  was  on  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  Walcree,  marching  off  as  speedily  as  might  be,  to  secure 
their  booty,  for  the  course  of  the  firing  in  the  morning  indicated  unfa 
vorable  news  from  the  army. 

The  militia,  the  general  saw,  were  in  air;  and  the  regulars, he  feared, 
were  no  more.  The  dreadful  thunder  of  artillery  and  musketry  had 
ceased,  and  none  of  his  friends  appeared.  There  was  no  existing  corps 
with  which  the  victorious  detachment  might  unite,  and  the.  Americans 
had  no  post  in  the  rear.  He  therefore  sent  orders  to  Sumter  to  retire 
in  the  best  manner  he  could,  and  proceeded  himself  with  General  Gas- 
well  toward  Charlotte,  an  open  village  on  a  plain,  about  sixty  miles 
from  the  fatal  scene  of  action.  The  Virginians,  who  knew  nothing  of 
the  country  they  were  in,  involuntarily  reversed  the  route  they  came, 
and  fled,  most  of  them,  to  Hillsborough.  General  Stevens  followed 
them,  and  halted  there  as  many  as  were  not  sufficiently  refreshed,  be 
fore  his  arrival,  to  pursue  their  way  home.  Their  terms  of  service, 
however,  being  very  short,  and  no  prospect  presenting  itself  to  afford 
another  proof  of  their  courage,  General  Stevens  soon  afterward  dis 
charged  them. 

The  North-Carolina  militia  fled  different  ways,  as  their  hopes  led  or 
their  fears  drove  them.  Most  of  them  preferring  the  shortest  way 
home,  scattered  through  the  wilderness  which  lies  between  the  Wa 
teree  and  Pedee  rivers,  and  thence  toward  Roanoke.  Whatever  these 
might  have  suffered  from  the  disaffected,  they  were  probably  not  worse 
off  th:m  those  who  retired  the  way  they  came — wherein  they  met 
many  of  their  friends,  armed,  and  advancing  to  join  the  American  army; 
but,  learning  its  fate  from  the  refugees,  they  acted  decidedly  in  concert 
with  the  victors — and  capturing  some,  plundering  others,  and  maltreat- 
'ng  all  the  fugitives  they  met,  returned  exultingly  home.  They  even 
taunts  to  their  perfidy :  one  of  a  party,  who  robbed  Brigadier* 


876  APPENDIX. 

General  Butler  of  his  sword,  consoled  him  by  saying,  "  You  '11  flare  n« 
further  use  for  it." 

The  regular  troops,  it  has  been  observed,  were  the  last  to  quit  the 
field.  Every  corps  was  broken  and  dispersed  ;  even  the  bogs  and  brush, 
which  in  some  measure  served  to  screen  them  from  their  furious  pur 
suers,  separated  them  from  one  another.  Major  Anderson  was  the 
only  officer  who  fortunately  rallied,  as  he  retreated,  a  few  men  of  dif 
ferent  companies,  and  whose  prudence  and  firmness  afforded  protection 
to  those  who  joined  his  party  on  the  route. 

Colonel  Gunby,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Howard,  Captain  Kirkwood, 
and  Captain  Dobson,  with  a  few  other  officers,  and  fifty  or  sixty  men, 
formed  a  junction  on  the  route,  and  proceeded  together. 

The  general  order  for  moving  off  the  heavy  baggage,  &c.,  to  Wax- 
haws,  was  not  put  in  execution,  as  directed  to  be  done,  on  the  prece 
ding  evening.  The  whole  of  it  consequently  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  as  well  as  all  that  which  followed  the  army,  except  the  wagons  of 
General  Gates  and  De  Kalb,  which,  being  furnished  with  the  stoutest 
horses,  fortunately  escaped,  under  the  protection  of  a  small  quarter- 
guard.  Other  wagons  also  had  got  out  of  danger  from  the  enemy ;  but 
the  cries  of  the  women  and  the  wounded  in  the  rear,  and  the  conster 
nation  of  the  flying  troops,  so  alarmed  some  of  the  wagoners,  that  they 
cut  out  their  teams,  and  taking  each  a  horse,  left  the  rest  for  the  next 
that  should  come.  Others  were  obliged  to  give  up  their  horses  to  as 
sist  in  carrying  off  the  wounded;  and  the  whole  road  for  many  miles 
was  strewed  with  signals  of  distress,  confusion,  and  dismay. 

What  added  not  a  little  to  this  calamitous  scene  was  the  conduct  of 
Armand's  legion.  They  were  principally  foreigners,  and  some  of  them 
probably  not  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes.  Whether  it  was  owing  to 
the  disgust  of  the  colonel  at  general  orders,  or  the  cowardice  of  his 
men,  is  not  with  the  writer  to  determine ;  but  certain  it  is  that  the  le 
gion  did  not  take  any  part  in  the  action  of  the  ]  6th  ;  they  retired  early 
and  in  disorder,  and  were  seen  plundering  the  baggage  of  the  army  on 
their  retreat.  One  of  them  cul  Captain  Lemar,  of  the  Maryland  in 
fantry,  over  the  hand,  for  attempting  to  reclaim  his  own  portmanteau, 
which  the  fellow  was  taking  out  of  the  wagon.  Captain  Lemar  was 
unarmed,  having  broken  his  sword  in  action,  and  was  obliged  to  sub 
mit  both  to  the  loss  and  to  the  insult.  The  tent-covers  were  thrown 
off  the  wagons  generally,  and  the  baggage  exposed,  so  that  one  might 
take  what  suited  him  to  carry  off.  General  Caswell's  mess-wagon 
afforded  the  best  refreshment :  very  unexpectedly  to  the  writer,  he 
there  found  a  pipe  of  good  Madeira,  broached  and  surrounded  by  a 
number  of  soldiers,  whose  appearance  led  him  to  inquire  what  engaged 
their  attention.  He  acknowledges  that  in  this  instance  he  shared  the 
booty,  and  took  a  draught  of  wine,  which  was  the  only  refreshment  he 
had  received  that  day. 

But  the  catastrophe  being  over,  before  we  pursue  a  detail  of  all  it* 
distressing  consequences,  it  may  be  excusable  to  consider  whether  tU» 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OP    1780.  377 

measures  which  led  to  the  necessity  of  fighting  a  general  battle  were 
justifiable,  and  whether  such  an  event  might  not  have  been  avoided  at 
almost  any  time  before  the  two  armies  were  actually  opposed. 

If  General  Gates  intended  to  risk  a  general  action,  conscious  of  all 
circumstances,  he  certainly  made  that  risk  under  every  possible  disad 
vantage  ;  and  a  contemplation  of  those  circumstances  would  seem  to 
justify  Colonel  Armand's  assertion,  made  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
in  which  the  battle  was  fought :  "  I  will  not,"  said  he,  "  say  that  we 
have  been  betrayed  ;  but  if  it  had  been  the  purpose  of  the  general  to 
sacrifice  his  army,  what  could  he  have  done  more  effectually  to  have 
answered  that  purpose!" 

General  Gates,  however,  notwithstanding  his  after  order  of  the  15th, 
had,  in  the  opinion  of  most  of  his  officers,  and  particularly  of  the  writer, 
no  more  apprehension  of  meeting  the  enemy  in  force  than  the  least- 
informed  man  of  his  army.  The  circuitous  route,  first  recommended 
to  him,  would  certainly  have  been  the  safest  and  best.  Magazines,  an 
armory,  a  hospital,  and  even  fortified  posts,  might  have  been  estab 
lished,  without  halting  the  effective  force  of  the  army — posts  to  which 
they  might,  in  case  of  disaster,  have  retired  under  protection  of  the 
patriotic  militia  of  Mecklenburg  and  Roan  counties,  who  only  wanted 
time  to  join  the  army  in  respectable  numbers.  Such  at  least  were 
their  subsequent  declarations,  and  such  their  subsequent  conduct  ren 
dered  most  probable. 

But,  even  on  the  route  the  army  had  marched,  the  danger  of  meet 
ing  an  enemy  of  equal  or  superior  force  was  passed  when  they  got  into 
the  vicinity  of  the  Wateree,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  their  friends. 
It  was  only  necessary  for  General  Gates  to  have  been  informed  of  the 
march  of  Lord  Cornwallis  from  Charleston,  to  have  avoided,  almost  as 
long  as  he  pleased,  a  conflict  between  the  two  armies. 

In  the  opinion  of  the  writer  it  was  not  too  late,  even  after  Lord 
Cornwallis  reached  Camden.  If,  instead  of  meeting  him  involuntarily, 
General  Gates  had  been  informed  of  his  intended  movement,  and  qui- 
etiy  in  the  afternoon  of  the  15th  have  followed  with  his  whole  army 
the  detachment  under  Woolford,  over  the  Wateree,  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  the  armies  to  have  met  until  the  next  day,  and  after  the 
success  of  Sumter's  expedition.  If  his  lordship  should  then  have  thought 
of  forcing  a  passage  over  the  Wateree,  General  Gates  would  have  had 
the  alternative  of  opposing  him  Under  that  disadvantage,  or  of  retiring 
to  any  position  he  might  prefer  higher  up  the  river.  Lord  Cornwallia 
could  not  have  adventured  the  passage  of  the  river  much  above  Gates's 
army,  because,  the  river  being  fordable  in  many  places,  his  garrison  and 
magazines  at  Camden  would  have  been  jeoparded  :  the  forces  he  could 
afford  to  leave  for  its  defence  would  have  been  insufficient  for  half  a 
day  ;  and,  if  the  post  and  its  stores  had  been  gained  by  the  Americans, 
the  British  army,  destitute  of  supplies,  would  have  been  obliged  to  re 
tire  toward  Charleston.  On  the  other  hand,  if  his  lordship  should 
his  post  in  his  rear,  he  must  consequently  leave  the  communica 


§78  APPENDIX. 

tion  open  between  the  American  army  and  their  friends  in  the  uppe 
country,  which  would  have  rendered  more  practicable  the  avoiding  of 
a  general  engagement.  But  these  are  subsequent  reflections  on  meas 
ures,  the  Idea  of  which  perhaps  never  occurred  nor  was  suggested  ta 
the  general.  Involved  as  he  was  in  the  necessity  of  fighting,  the  dis 
position  which  was  made  for  battle,  after  the  alarm,  was  perhaps  un* 
exceptionable,  and  as  well  adapted  to  the  situation  as  if  the  ground 
had  been  reconnoitred  and  chosen  by  the  ablest  officer  in  the  army  of 
the  United  States.  (It  was  afterward  approved  by  the  judicious  and 
gallant  General  GREECE,  to  whom  the  writer  had  the  solemn  pleasure 
of  showing  the  field  of  battle,  and  with  whom  he  had  the  additional 
mortification  of  participating  the  danger  and  disgrace  of  a  repulse  near 
the  same  place,  the  very  next  campaign.) 

The  only  apology  that  General  Gates  condescended  to  make  to  the 
army  for  the  loss  of  the  battle  was,  "  A  man  may  pit  a  cock,  but  he 
can't  make  him  fight ;  the  fate  of  battle  is  uncontrollable" — and  such 
other  common  maxims  as  admit  of  no  contradiction. 

It  is,  however,  morally  certain,  considering  the  disposition  of  the 
citizens  generally,  and  the  respectable  body  of  militia  that  had  already 
joined  the  army,  that  time  was,  of  all  things,  the  most  important  to 
the  success  of  General  Gates's  army. 

Lord  Cornwallis,  conscious  of  this  truth,  and  of  the  disadvantage 
which  the  least  lapse  would  prove  to  him,  seized  the  first  moment  to 
hasten  the  decision  of  an  experiment  which  was  to  gain  or  lose  the 
country,  for  that  season  at  least — perhaps  for  ever. 

Generals  Gates  and  Caswell  arrived  at  Charlotte  on  the  night  of  the 
action.  The  ensuing  morning  presented  nothing  to  them  but  an  open 
village,  with  but  few  inhabitants,  and  the  remains  of  a  temporary  hos 
pital,  containing  a  few  maimed  soldiers  of  Colonel  Buford's  unfortu 
nate  corps,  which  had  been  cut  to  pieces  on  the  retreat,  after  the  sur 
render  of  Charleston. 

General  Caswell  was  requested  to  remain  there,  to  encourage  the 
miiitia  of  the  country,  who  were  to  rendezvous  there  in  three  days 
(as  it  was  first  intended),  to  countenance  the  reassembling  of  the  Amer 
ican  army.  General  Gates  perceived  no  effectual  succor  short  of  Hills- 
borough,  where  the  general  assembly  of  North  Carolina  were  about  to 
convene  ;  thither  he  repaired  with  all  possible  expedition,  and  was  fol 
lowed  the  next  day  by  General  Caswell,  who  despaired  of  the  meeting 
of  the  militia — probably  because  he  thought  that  their  first  object,  the 
army,  was  annihilated. 

On  the  two  days  succeeding  the  fatal  action,  Brigadier-General  Gist, 
who  commanded  the  second  brigade  of  Mar)  land  troops  previous  to  its 
misfortune  at  Charlotte,  arrived  with  only  two  or  three  attendants,  who 
had  fallen  into  his  route.  Several  field  officers  and  many  officers  of 
the  line  also  arrived,  similarly  circumstanced  ;  and,  although  not  more 
than  about  a  dozen  men  of  different  corps  arrived  in  irregular  squads 
from  time  to  time,  not  less  than  one  hundred  infantry  were  collected  in 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OP    1780.  379 

the  village  within  that  time,  besides  Armand's  cavalry,  which  was  very 
little  reduced,  and  a  small  corps  of  mounted  militia,  which  retired  from 
the  Waxhaw  settlement,  under  the  command  of  Major  Davy,  an  en 
terprising  and  gallant  young  man  who  had  been  raising  volunteer  cav 
alry  to  join  the  army.  Very  few  of  the  fugitive  militia  resorted  to  this 
place. 

Fortunately,  there  was  a  small  supply  of  provisions  in  the  town  ;  the 
inhabitants  did  all  they  could  to  refresh  both  men  and  officers ;  and  by 
the  provident  care  of  Colonel  Hall,  of  Maryland,  a  quantity  of  flour  was 
sent  back  on  the  route  of  the  retreating  troops. 

Brigadier-General  Smallwood,  who  had  the  honor  of  the  second  line, 
or  corps  de  reserve,  assigned  him  in  the  late  action,  deliberately  came 
in  on  the  morning  (or  about  noon)  of  the  18th,  escorted  by  one  of  his 
aids-de-camp,  two  or  three  other  gentlemen,  and  about  as  many  sol 
diers,  all  mounted.  His  route  was  by  way  of  the  Wateree. 

The  small  squads  assembled  by  Major  Anderson  and  the  other  offi 
cers  already  mentioned  were  on  the  direct  route.  The  latter  were  not 
yet  arrived,  but  were  hourly  expected  ;  and  afforded,  in  addition  to  those 
already  collected  and  those  with  Colonel  Sumter,  a  prospect  of  forming 
such  a  body  as  might  still  encourage  the  militia  to  form  at  least  the  sem 
blance  of  an  army,  which  might  keep  up  some  appearance  of  opposition 
until  the  resources  of  the  Union  could  be  called  forth  by  Congress  or 
by  the  states  most  immediately  interested. 

An  incident  which  occasioned  great  distress  the  next  day  must  be 
here  related.  It  has  been  observed  that  many  of  the  wagoners  and 
retreating  troops  accelerated  their  flight  by  taking  horses  from  the  wag 
ons  which  were  left  on  the  route.  In  this  way  many  wounded  officers 
and  soldiers  made  their  escape,  and  bore  with  astonishing  fortitude  the 
pains  incident  to  their  situation.  T|iey  gave,  indeed  (some  of  them), 
proofs. of  the  utmost  pain  and  fatigue  that  the  human  constitution  can 
bear ;  others  sank  under  their  accumulated  distresses.  Those  who  ar 
rived  at  Charlotte  were  taken  the  best  possible  care  of;  the  horses  were 
turned  out  to  graze  in  the  adjacent  fields,  no  forage  being  provided. 
It  should  have  been  remarked  that  the  tribe  of  Catawba  Indians,  good 
friends  to  the  Americans,  quitted  their  villages  on  the  Wateree,  and 
followed  the  remnant  of  the  army  toward  the  town  of  Charlotte,  where 
many  of  them  had  already  arrived.  Some  of  them,  in  their  irregular 
way,  fired  a  number  of  guns  after  nightfall  on  the  18th,  which  gave  a 
very  general  alarm,  and  many  of  the  people  fled  in  the  night,  taking 
as  many  of  the  horses  as  they  could  find  or  had  occasion  for. 

Another  incident,  much  more  consequential !  The  morning  of  the 
19th  was  fair,  and  the  officers  were  assembling  about  the  public  square 
and  encouraging  one  another  with  hopes  of  a  more  favorable  course  of 
affairs  than  had  been  current  for  some  time  past,  when  they  received 
unquestionable  information  that  Colonel  Sumter,  whose  arrival  they 
'ooked  for  every  moment,  was  completely  surprised  the  preceding  day 


380  APPENDIX. 

and  the  whole  party  killed,  captured,  or  dispersed !     Dead  or  alive,  he 
was  censured  for  suffering  a  surprise. 

No  organization  nor  order  had  yet  been  attempted  to  he  restored 
among  the  few  troops  that  had  arrived  in  Charlotte ;  the  privates  were 
therefore  hastily  formed  into  ranks,  and  the  officers  were  among  them 
selves  adjusting  the  commands  to  be  taken  by  them  respectively,  when 
the  number  of  supernumerary  officers  was  discovered  to  be  very  con 
siderable.  Every  one,  however,  took  some  charge  upon  himself.  The 
care  of  the  wounded,  the  collection  of  provisions,  the  transportation  of 
the  heavy  baggage  (preserved  by  Major  Dean's  small  guard),  and  other 
matters  which  might  in  any  way  alleviate  the  general  distress,  engaged 
the  attention  of  those  who  had  no  division  of  the  men. 

There  was  no  council,  nor  regular  opinion  taken  respecting  this  irk 
some  situation.  The  general  idea  was  that  Charlotte,  an  open,  wooded 
village,  without  magazines  of  any  sort,  without  a  second  cartridge  per 
man,  and  without  a  second  ration,  was  not  tenable  for  an  hour  against 
superior  numbers  which  might  enter  at  every  quarter.  Moreover,  it 
was  estimated  by  those  who  knew  the  geography  of  the  country,  that 
even  the  victorious  enemy  might  be  in  the  vicinity  of  the  place.  It 
was  admitted  by  every  one  that  no  place  could  be  more  defenceless. 

Only  one  officer,  who  was  of  the  legion,  proposed  a  temporary  de 
fence,  by  pulling  down  the  houses  and  forming  a  redoubt,  which  might 
induce  the  enemy  to  grant  a  capitulation.  No  respect  wag  paid  to  this 
destructive  proposition,  and  the  first  suggestion  prevailed. 

Difficulties  almost  innumerable  presented  themselves  to  obstruct  a 
march.  Several  officers  with  small  parties  were  known  to  be  on  the 
route  from  Camden ;  some  refugees  might  possibly  escape  from  Sum 
ter's  detachment ;  many  of  the  wounded  were  obliged  to  be  left  in  the 
old  hospital,  dependent  probably  on  the  enemy  or  on  a  few  of  the  in 
habitants  who  were  unable  to  retire ;  and  even  some  who  might  have 
have  got  off  on  horseback  were  deprived  of  the  means  by  the  alarming 
incident  of  the  preceding  night.  Were  all  these  to  be  abandoned  1 

Time  was  never  more  important  to  a  set  of  wretches  than  now ;  but 
how  to  take  it — whether  '•  by  the  forelock,"  as  the  adage  is,  or  wait  its 
more  propitious  moments — none  of  us  could  decisively  resolve.  Brig 
adier-General  Sma-llvvood,  who  quartered  himself  at  a  farmhouse  a  little 
way  from  town,  appeared  at  this  crisis  approaching  the  parade  in  his 
usual  slow  pace.  As  senior  officer,  his  orders  would  have  been  obeyed, 
even  to  setting  about  fortifying  th'  village  ;  but  being  informed  of  wha* 
has  just  been  related,  and  concur  ng  in  the  general  sentiment,  he  leis 
urely  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  party  and  moved  off  toward  Salis 
bury.  The  deputy  adjutant-general  and  Brigade-Major  Davidson  took 
the  route  to  Camden,  in  order  to  direct  all  they  might  meet  to  file  off 
toward  Salisbury.  The  small  parties  that  had  attached  themselves  ti 
Colonel  Gunby  and  Colonel  Howard  were  met  near  town,  and  an  ex 
press  was  sent  to  Major  Anderson,  who  had,  to  no  purpose,  spent  some 
time  in  endeavors  to  bring  off  some  wagons  which  had  escaped  beyond 


SOUTHERN    ARMY CAMPAIGN    OP    1780.  38] 

live  pursuit  of  the  enemy  and  were  left  without  horses.  By  noon  a 
very  lengthy  line  of  march  occupied  the  road  from  Charbtte  to  Salis 
bury.  It  consisted  of  the  wretched  remnant  of  the  late  southern  army, 
a  great  number  of  distressed  whig  families,  and  the  whole  tribe  of  Ca- 
tawba  Indians  (about  three  hundred  in  number,  some  fifty  or  sixty  of 
whom  were  warriors,  but  indifferently  armed).  Among  the  rest  were 
six  soldiers  who  had  left  the  hospitals  with  other  convalescents ;  they 
had  all  suffered  in  Buford's  unfortunate  affair,  and  had  but  two  sound 
arms  among  them — indeed,  four  of  them  had  not  one  arm  among  them, 
and  two  only  an  arm  apiece :  each  of  them  had  one  linen  garment. 
Those  officers  and  men  who  were  recently  wounded,  and  had  resolu 
tion  to  undertake  the  fatigue,  were  differently  transported — some  in 
wagons,  some  in  litters,  and  some  on  horseback.  Their  sufferings  were 
indescribable.  The  distresses  of  the  women  and  children  who  fled  from 
Charlotte  and  its  neighborhood — the  nakedness  of  the  Indians,  and  the 
number  of  their  infants  and  aged  persons — and  the  disorder  of  the 
whole  line  of  march — conspired  to  render  it  a  scene  too  picturesque 
and  complicated  for  description.  A  just  representation  would  exhibit 
an  image  of  compound  wretchedness ;  care,  anxiety,  pain,  poverty, 
hurry,  confusion,  humiliation,  and  dejection,  would  be  characteristic 
traits  in  the  mortifying  picture. 

The  inhabitants  who  had  fled  with  their  families  soon  began  to  dis 
perse  and  take  refuge  among  their  friends  in  the  interior  of  the  coun 
try.  The  Catawbas  had  a  district  of  country  assigned  them  for  hunting- 
grounds  in  North  Carolina.  Brigadier-General  Smallwood  continued 
the  march  of  the  regular  infantry  to  Salisbury,  and  arrived  the  third 
day  after.  Armand's  legion  proceeded  as  they  threatened  when  it  was 
resolved  to  evacuate  Charlotte :  "  If,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "  you 
will  make  de  retreat,  we  will  retreat  faster  dan  you  !"  They  proceeded 
to  Hillsborough.  The  fertility  of  the  country  between  Charlotte  and 
Salisbury,  the  hospitality  and  benevolence  of  the  inhabitants,  and  the 
numbers  of  their  habitations  on  the  route,  afforded  in  many  instances 
that  relief  which  was  requisite  to  preserve  life,  besides  a  liberal  supply 
of  provisions  for  all  this  cavalcade. 

It  is  not  known  whether,  if  the  Americans  had  not  evacuated  Char 
lotte,  Lord  Cornwallis  would  not  have  made  it  an  object  to  dispossess 
them;  but  as  it  was,  his  lordship  contented  himself  with  having  de 
feated  the  southern  army,  driven  it  out  of  South  Carolina,  and  cut  up 
the  only  detachment  respectable  enough  to  afford  a  head  to  which  the 
patriots  of  the  country  might  assemble.  His  lordship  certainly  gave 
the  world  another  instance  in  proof  of  the  assertion  that  it  is  not  every 
general,  upon  whom  fortune  bestows  her  favors,  who  knows  how  to 
avail  himself  of  all  the  advantages  which  are  presented  to  him.  Vic 
tory  is  not  always  attended — perhaps  never — with  all  the  superiority  it 
seems  to  bestow.  The  British  army  retired  to  Camden. 

So  unexpected  an  event  gave  the  poor  Americans  time  to  breathe, 
Smallwood  halted  his  party  at  Salisbury,  selected  about  one 


382  APPENDIX. 

hundred  and  fifty  effective  men,  and  sent  the  remainder,  perhaps  fiftj 
or  sixty  more,  over  the  Yadkin  river,  with  the  wagons,  women,  &c. 
The  effectives  he  officered  according  to  his  pleasure,  and  permitted  the 
field  officers,  particularly  those  who  had  not  formerly  belonged  to  his 
brigade,  to  proceed  to  Hillsborough.  Hall,  Williams,  and  Howard, 
were  of  the  number,  who  availed  themselves  at  their  leisure  of  this 
permission.  At  Salisbury,  one  hundred  and  twenty  or  thirty  miles 
from  the  scene  of  the  late  action,  Smallwood  took  time  to  dictate  those 
letters  which  he  addressed  to  Congress,  and  in  which  he  intimated  the 
great  difficulties  he  had  encountered  and  the  exertions  he  had  made  to 
save  a  remnant  of  General  Gates's  army — letters  which,  with  the  aid 
of  those  he  addressed  to  his  friends  in  power,  procured  him,  it  was  gen 
erally  believed  in  the  line,  the  rank  of  major-general  in  the  army  of 
the  United  States,  and  which  probably  prompted  the  resolution  of 
Congress  directing  an  inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  General  Gates.  But 
many  of  the  officers  wrote  to  their  friends  from  Salisbury,  and  being 
chagrined  and  mortified  at  not  overtaking  their  commanding  general  in 
so  long  a  retreat,  expressed  themselves  with  great  disgust  and  freedom. 
Major  Anderson,  who  casually  heard  of  the  retreat  of  the  detachment 
that  had  surprised  Sumter,  proceeded  to  Charlotte,  where  he  found  the 
militia  inspirited  by  a  change  of  circumstances,  disposed  to  organize 
themselves,  and  form  such  corps  as  might  protect  the  country  from  the 
incursions  of  the  enemy,  which  might  be  expected  from  Camden.  They 
icquestcd  the  major  to  remain  at  Charlotte,  and  through  him  invited 
General  Smallwood  to  return,  importuning  him,  and  even  offering  him 
the  chief  command  of  the  militia  of  Mecklenburg — General  Caswell, 
their  countryman,  having,  as  they  alleged,  abandoned  them  even  before 
the  expiration  of  the  three  days  in  which  he  had  ordered  them  to  as 
semble  at  Charlotte. 

General  Smallwood,  however,  declined  the  honor  of  this  invitation, 
and  sent  orders  to  Major  Anderson  to  join  him  without  delay  at  Salis 
bury  ;  and  in  order  that  these  instructions  might  not  be  dispensed  with 
on  any  pretence  whatever,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Ford,  the  particular 
friend  of  Anderson,  was  charged  with  them  and  with  directions  to  ex 
pedite  the  march  of  the  party.  The  order  was  executed,  and  the  mor 
tified  militia  were  left  to  depend  upon  their  own  exertions  and  their 
own  fortitude,  which,  notwithstanding  the  discouragements  they  had 
met  with,  did  not  fail.  They  assembled,  formed  themselves  into  small 
partisan  corps — and  actually  combated  successfully  the  first  detach 
ments  of  the  enemy  that  afterward  came  into  their  country.  These 
are  facts  which  entitle  the  patriots  of  Mecklenburg  and  Waxhaws  to  a 
whole  page  of  eulogium  in  the  best  history  that  shall  record  the  cir 
cumstances  of  the  revolution. 

The  unfortunate  General  Gates,  at  Hillsborough,  where  the  assem 
bly  of  the  state  had  convened,  hearing  from  the  officers  who  arrived 
there  that  the  disasters  of  the  army  were  not  so  completely  ruinous  as 
he  had  at  first  apprehended,  applied  himself  assiduously  to  the  legisla- 


SOUTHERN    ARMY EVENTS    SUBSEQUENT    TO    1780.       383 

ture  for  the  supplies  necessary  to  re-equip  the  regular  troops.  But 
what  supplies,  or  rather  the  quantum,  that  would  be  requisite,  the  gen 
eral  could  not  ascertain,  having  received  no  returns  or  reports  of  any 
kind  from  General  Small  wood,  who  seemed  to  assume  the  command 
of  the  army. 

In  order  therefore  to  obtain  the  requisite  information,  and  to  decide 
at  once  the  doubt  about  command,  General  Gates  wrote  explicitfy  to 
General  Smallwood,  and  oi'dered  him  to  pass  the  Yadkin  river  with  all 
the  men  under  his  command,  and  to  proceed  on  the  direct  route  to 
Hilisborough.  This  order  had  been  anticipated  :  it  was  icceived  by 
General  Smallwood  after  he  had  passed  the  Yadkin  and  was  on  his 
march  to  Guilford  Courthouse,  on  the  route  directed.  AtGuilford  the 
troops  were  halted  for  refreshment ;  and,  as  there  was  a  great  plenty 
of  provisions  in  the  neighborhood,  General  Smallwood,  without  regard 
ing  the  instructions  he  had  received  from  General  Gates,  wrote  to  tlit 
assembly  of  the  state,  intimating  that,  with  their  approbation,  he  would 
continue  there  until  other  arrangements  should  be  resolved  on.  The 
assembly  properly  declined  interfering  in  matters  which  might  involve: 
a  question  of  authority  between  two  continental  officers,  and  referred 
the  proposition  of  General  Smallwood  to  General  Gates.  General 
Gates  did  not  entirely  disapprove  of  the  execution  of  the  proposition, 
but  in  his  letter  to  General  Smallwood  he  required  that  certain  returns, 
&c.,  should  be  forwarded  to  him  without  delay,  and  gave  such  explicit 
intimations  that  he  was  not  disposed  to  relinquish  his  command  of  the 
southern  army,  as  to  induce  General  Smallwood  to  suspend  for  the 
present  his  hopes  of  succeeding  thereto.  He  therefore  marched  imme 
diately  to  Hillsbarough,  where  he  arrived  with  the  tattered  remains  of 
the  army  early  in  the  month  of  September.  Thus  ended  the  campaign 
of  1780. 


A  NARRATIVE  OF  EVENTS  RELATIVE  TO  THE  SOUTHERN  ARMY,  SUBSEQUENT 
TO  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  GENERAL  GATES'S  BROKEN  BATTALIONS  AT  HILLS- 
BOROUGH,  1780. 

HILLSBOKOUGH  had  been  a  place  of  rendezvous  for  all  the  militia 
.aised  in  the  interior  of  North  Carolina,  and  a  .stage  of  refreshment  for 
all  the  troops  which  had  marched  from  the  northward  to  succor  Charles- 
con  or  reinforce  the  southern  army ;  consequently  the  resources  of  the  coun 
try  had  been  collected  and  generally  applied.  What  remained  did  not  af 
ford  an  ample  supply  even  for  the  fugitives  of  the  late  army,  which  were 
now  collected  in  the  town,  and  were  cantoned,  some  in  the  houses  of  the 
inhabitants,  and  some  in  tents  patched  near  the  courthouse,  where  the 
assembly  of  the  state  was  convened.  The  assembly  saw  and  regretted 
the  wants  of  the  troops,  and  did  all  that  was  then  practicable  for  theii 
relief.  A  comfortable  supply  of  fresh  meat,  corn-meal,  and  wheat-flour 
was  procured  for  the  hospital,  and  the  rest  of  the  men  were  subsisted 
by  provisions  furnished  by  state  commissaries  in  part  and  partly  by  the 


J34  APPENDIX. 

old  expedient  of  collecting  by  detachments — an  expedient  which  gave 
great  umbrage  to  the  country. 

At  this  time  Lord  Cornwallis  was  with  the  principal  part  of  his  army 
at  Camden,  where  his  own  wounded  and  those  of  the  American  army 
were  very  differently  treated. 

The  worse  than  savage  system  of  severity  suggested  by  the  malice 
of  the  king's  minister,  or  conceived  by  the  malignity  of  the  king  him 
self,  which  had  been  so  fatally  practised  upon  the  prisoners  in  New 
York  and  Philadelphia,  was  now  practised  with  equal  barbarity  on  the 
prisoners  taken  in  the  southern  department.  Everywhere  they  were 
treated  with  cruel  neglect  or  insolent  severity.  The  difference  of  cli 
mates  made  some  difference  in  consequences. 

The  same  treatment,  or  rather  worse,  was  suffered  by  the  inhabitants 
of  the  country  who  had  ever  been  in  arms,  or  were  even  suspected  of 
disloyalty.  Some  who  were  accused  of  having  received  protections  and 
violated  the  conditions  were  hung  without  any  form  of  trial !  Prompt 
punishments  for  supposed  crimes  were  inflicted  at  the  will  of  superior 
officers  in  the  different  British  garrisons,  and  every  measure  was  adopted 
which  the  arrogance  of  power  could  devise,  to  subjugate  the  minds  as 
well  as  the  privileges  of  the  people.  The  want  of  energy  in  the  union 
of  the  United  States  and  the  imbecility  of  the  states  themselves  gave 
great  latitude  to  the  effect  of  the  British  measures.  Their  emissaries 
were  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  were  but  too  successful  in  the 
lower  counties  of  North  Carolina,  where  the  inhabitants,  except  in  and 
near  the  seaport  towns,  began  to  be  generally  disaffected  to  the  Ameri 
can  cause.  Even  in  Chatham  county  a  considerable  body  took  arms 
and  threatened  to  disperse  the  assembly  of  the  state  from  Hillsborough, 
Indeed,  so  serious  was  the  alarm  upon  this  occasion,  that  to  guard 
against  a  surprise  of  the  town  on  a  night  when  the  insurgents  were 
confidently  expected,  all  the  troops  were  kept  under  arms  the  whole 
night.  As  no  arrangement  had  yet  taken  place,  General  Gates  de 
sired  Colonel  Williams  to  command  them.  The  inhabitants  were  or 
dered  to  arm,  and  even  the  members  of  the  assembly  thought  it  incum 
bent  on  them  to  arm  themselves  also.  The  following  fact  may  illustrate 
their  character,  as  well  for  patriotism  as  soldiership : — 

It  was  requested  that  a  regular  officer  would  lend  his  assistance  in 
arranging  the  militia.  The  members  of  the  assembly  were  collected 
near  the  courthouse  (the  seat  of  government),  and  were  arming  them 
selves  when  the  officer  arrived,  who,  taking  them  for  the  militia  who 
stood  in  need  of  an  adjutant,  began  the  exercise  of  that  office,  and  mar 
shalled  them  in  a  manner  which  showed  no  respect  for  them  as  legis 
lators.  No  exception,  however,  was  taken  to  the  conduct  of  the  officer- 
The  circumstance  was  mentioned  afterward,  only  as  one  of  those  ludi 
crous  incidents  (and  there  were  many)  which  occurred  during  the  night 
of  the  alarm.  Although  the  alarm  proved  false,  it  proved  no  less  cer 
tain  that  the  enterprise  might  have  been  effected  by  a  few  brave  meii, 
even  on  that  very  night.  The  hurry  and  confusion  which  it  ocoo 


SOUTHERN  ARMY EVENTS   SUBSEQUENT  TO    1780.       385 

•ioned  discovered  the  expediency  of  re-establishing  order  among  the 
troops,  and  every  other  man  seemed  to  feel  the  obligation  of  giving  his 
assistance  as  well  to  provide  for  present  necessities  as  against  future 
contingencies.  Influenced  by  motives  not  to  be  disregarded,  the  gov 
ernment  of  North  Carolina  soon  began  to  exert  all  its  powers.  The 
second  class  of  the  militia  were  ordered  to  assemble  immediately  :  com 
missaries,  quartermasters,  and  agents,  with  extensive  powers,  were  ap 
pointed  to  procure  every  article  requisite  for  another  campaign  ;  and, 
for  want  of  funds  (for  the  paper-monev  of  the  United  States  was  now 
depreciated  below  calculation),  these  officers  were  authorized  to  take, 
on  the  account  of  government,  all  military  stores,  arms,  provisions, 
clothing,  &c.,  that  were  to  be  found,  and  to  grant  receipts  or  certificates 
for  the  s;ime. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  disasters  of  the  so-uthern  army,  and  a  sense 
of  common  danger,  had  seemingly  obliterated  all  recollection  of  former 
differences  and  animosities  among  the  officers  of  the  regular  corps,  it 
ought  not  to  be  dissembled  that  such  were  among  the  causes  which, 
for  a  little  time,  postponed  the  new  organization  of  the  troops. 

What  cause  General  Gates  had  to  apprehend  being  superseded  in 
the  command  of  the  southern  army,  may  be  conjectured  by  those  who 
have  a  knowledge  of  the  facts;  but  what  reason  General  Smallwood 
could  have  to  hope  to  become  his  successor,  none  who  are  riot  grossly 
imposed  on  can  possibly  imagine. 

The  misunderstanding  between  these  two  officers  was  never,  I  be 
lieve,  avowed  ;  but,  as  Gates  reassumed  his  command,  Smallwood  retired 
from  it. 

General  Gist  was  not  ambitious  of  the  command  of  men  so  circum 
stanced  ;  and,  in  fact,  many  other  officers  wished  for  an  opportunity  of 
returning  home  without  a  laur.el  or  a  scar. 

A  board  of  officers,  convened  by  order  of  General  Gates,  determined 
that  all  the  effective  men  should  be  formed  into  two  battalions,  consti 
tuting  one  regiment,  to  be  completely  officered,  and  provided  for  in  the 
best  possible  manner  that  circumstances  would  admit.  The  sick  and 
convalescent  were  to  remain,  but  all  the  invalids  were  to  be  sent  home  ; 
and  the  supernumerary  officers  wero  to  repair  to  their  respective  states, 
to  assist  in  the  recruiting  service. 

The  command  of  the  newly-formed  regiment  was  given  to  Colonel 
Williams  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Howard.  Majors  Anderson  and 
Hard  man  commanded  the  battalions. 

No  sooner  were  these  officers  invested  with  command,  than  they 
began  to  restore  order  and  discipline  among  the  troops  ;  and  the  colonel, 
who  was  inspector  of  the  Maryland  division  of  the  army  of  the  United 
States  (comprehending  the  quota  of  Delaware  also),  demanded  a  gen 
eral  order,  before  any  of  the  officers  should  depart,  for  the  most  correct 
returns  that  could  be  made  under  present  circumstances,  accounting  as 
well  for  the  men  as  for  their  arms,  accoutrements,  &c.,  &c.  The  lattei 
part  of  the  order  could  not  be  complied  with  in  any  satisfactory  degree , 
17 


386  APPENDIX. 

hut  after  some  time,  the  officers,  by  comparing  notes  and  recollecting 
circumstances,  rendered  returns,  from  which  the  following  abstracts 
v/ere  taken : — 

Total  of  Maryland  troops :  Three  colonels,  four  lieutenant-colonels, 
five  majors,  thirty-eight  captains,  fifty  subalterns,  twenty-four  staff-offi 
cers,  eighty-five  non-commissioned  officers,  sixty-two  musicians,  and 
seven  hundred  and  eighty-one  rank  and  file. 

The  numbers  which  were  killed,  captured,  and  missing,  smce  the 
last  muster,  could  not  with  any  accuracy  be  ascertained.  The  aggre 
gate  was — three  lieutenant-colonels,  two  majors,  fifteen  captains,  thir 
teen  subalterns,  two  staff-officers,  fifty-two  non-commissioned  officers, 
thirty-four  musicians,  and  seven  hundred  and  eleven  rank  and  file. 
These,  at  least  a  very  great  majority  of  them,  and  all  of  them  for  aught  I 
know,  fell  in  the  field,  or  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  on  the  fatal  16th 
of  August.  It  is  extremely  probable  that  the  number  killed  much  ex 
ceeded  the  number  taken  prisoners. 

The  Delaware  regiment  being  mustered,  the  returns  stood  thus  :  Four 
captains,  seven  subalterns,  three  staff-officers,  nineteen  non-commissioned 
officers,  eleven  musicians,  and  one  hundred  and  forty-five  rank  and  file, 
in  actual  service,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.  Eleven  commissioned  officers  and  thirty- 
six  privates  of  the  Delaware  regiment  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

These  details  may  not  be  unessential  to  those  who  have  been  con 
cerned  in  the  affairs  of  the  late  campaign,  and  may  give  satisfaction  to 
those  of  my  friends  who  may  wish  hereafter  to  have  a  true  knowledge 
of  circumstances. 

The  inhabitants  of  Hillsborough  soon  began  to  experience  and  com 
plain  of  the  inconvenience  of  having  soldiers  billeted  among  them  ;  and 
the  officers  were  equally  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  restraining  the 
licentiousness  of  the  soldiers,  when  not  immediately  under  their  obser 
vation.  Williams  therefore  drew  his  regiment  out  of  town,  distributing 
the  few  tents  he  had  among  the  several  companies.  He  encamped  on 
a  vacant  farm,  or  rather  in  the  woodland  belonging  to  it,  and  covered 
his  men  with  wigwams  made  of  fence-rails,  poles,  and  corn-tops,  regu 
larly  disposed.  The  tents  were  chiefly  occupied  by  the  officers,  but  as 
they  were  all  much  worn,  wigwams  were  soon  preferred,  on  account 
of  their  being  much  warmer. 

The  usual  camp  guards  and  sentinels  being  posted,  no  person  could 
come  into  or  go  out  of  camp  without  a  permit.  Parade  duties  were 
regularly  attended,  as  well  by  officers  as  soldiers,  and  discipline  not 
only  began  to  be  perfectly  restored,  but  even  gave  an  air  of  stability 
and  confidence  to  the  regiment,  which  all  their  rags  could  not  disguise. 
In  this  encampment  no  circumstance  of  want  or  distress  wras  admitted 
as  an  excuse  for  relaxing  from  the  strictest  discipline,  to  which  the  sol 
diers  the  more  cheerfully  submitted,  as  they  saw  their  officers  constantly 
occupied  in  procuring  for  them  whatever  was  attainable  in  their  sitii« 
tttion. 

Absolutely  without  pay,  almost  destitute  of  clothing,  often  with  only 


SOUTHERN  ARMY EVENVS   SUBSEQUENT  TO  1780.        387 

a  half  ration,  and  never  with  a  whole  one  (without  substituting  one 
article  for  another),  not  a  soldier  was  heard  to  murmur  after  the  third 
or  fourth  day  of  their  being  encamped.  Instead  of  meeting  and  con 
ferring  in  small,  sullen  squads,  as  they  had  formerly  done,  they  filled 
ii]>  the  intervals  from  duty  with  manly  exercises  and  field-sports ;  in 
short,  the  officers  had  very  soon  the  entire  confidence  of  the  men,  who 
divested  themselves  of  all  unnecessary  care,  and  devoted  themselves  to 
duty  and  pastime,  within  the  limits  assigned  them. 

The  docility  and  contentment  of  the  troops  were  the  more  extraor 
dinary,  as  they  were  not  unfrequently  reminded  (when  permitted  to  go 
into  the  country)  bow  differently  the  British  troops  were  provided  for. 

The  article  of  rum,  the  most  desirable  refreshment  to  soldiers,  was 
mentioned  among  other  inducements  for  them  to  desert ;  but  so  great 
was  their  fidelity  to  the  cause,  or  so  strong  their  attachment  to  their 
fellow  sufferers  and  soldiers,  that  they  not  only  rejected  the  most  flat 
tering  propositions  to  go  over  to  the  enemy,  but  they  absolutely  brought 
some  of  the  most  bold  and  importunate  incendiaries  into  camp,  who 
were  delivered  to  the  civil  authority,  and  some  of  them  punished. 

If  any  of  my  friends  should  inquire  why  I  descend  to  particulars  so 
minute  and  unimportant,  I  answer  that  I  am  not  writing  a  history  of 
the  revolution,  nor  of  the  proceedings  of  government ;  and  that  it  is 
not  unimportant  for  any  officer  to  observe  every  incident  in  the  life 
and  conduct  of  a  soldier  which  may  in  any  degree  serve  to  illustrate 
his  disposition.  The  general  characteristic  of  a  corps  should  never  be 
mistaken,  by  the  commanding  officer  especially.  Misunderstandings 
often  arise  from  it,  and  the  consequences  are  usually  what  might  be 
expected — unfavorable  to  both  officers  and  men. 

The  legion  commanded  by  Armand  was,  on  the  8th  of  September, 
sent  to  forage  and  make  cantonments  in  Warren  county,  whence  Ar 
mand  went  to  Philadelphia,  and  never  returned. 

General  Gates  did  not  conceal  his  opinion  that  he  held  cavalry  in  no 
estimation  in  the  southern  field.  If  he  judged  by  the  conduct  of  the 
legion,  he  ought  to  have  confined  his  opinion  to  that  corps  particularly, 
for  subsequent  experience  has  evinced  that  no  opinion  could  have  been 
more  erroneous. 

Two  brass  field-pieces,  which  General  Gates  had  left  under  a  small 
guard  at  Buffalo  ford,  for  want  of  horses,  the  first  day  of  his  march 
after  taking  the  command,  were  brought  to  camp  with  a  few  iron 
pieces  picked  up  at  Hillsborough,  and  formed  a  little  park  in  the  centre 
of  the  ragged  regiment  of  Maryland  and  Delaware  troops,  which  con 
stituted  ike  southern  army  until  the  16th  of  September,  when  Colonel 
Buford  arrived  from  Virginia  with  the  mangled  remains  of  his  unfor 
tunate  regiment,  reinforced  by  about  two  hundred  raw  recruits,  all  of 
them  in  a  ragged  condition.  Uniforms  and  other  clothing  were  to  be 
sent  after  them,  but  never  arrived. 

About  the  same  time  a  small  detachment  of  Virginia  militia  arrived, 
without  even  arms 


iSS  APPENDIX. 

On  me  18th,  the  relics  of  forterfield's  corps,  about  fifty  effective 
men,  arrived  under  the  command  of  Captain  Drew,  and  joined  L'uford. 
Thus  the  remainder  of  those  corps  which  had  been  recently  cut  to 
pieces,  without  being  recruited  or  refurnished  with  clothing,  camp  equi 
page,  &c.,  necessary  for  a  campaign,  were  hastily  assembled  to  form  the 
head  of  an  army  to  act  against  their  conquerors. 

The  body  of  the  proposed  army  was  to  consist  of  militia — the  second 
class  principally  of  those  very  mili'ia  who  had  so  shamefully  abandoned 
some  of  these  same  regulars  at  Camden  but  a  few  weeks  before. 

Confident  hopes  were,  notwithstanding,  entertained  that  the  interior 
of  the  two  Carolinas  might  be  defended  from  the  ravages  of  the  enemy 
until  Congress  might  gain  time  and  find  means  to  do  something  more 
effectual. 

The  officers  and  the  men  began  to  recover  their  usual  spirits.  Brig 
adier-General  Smallwood,  weary  of  wailing  events  at  obscure  quarters, 
and  dissatisfied  (as  every  officer  of  real  merit  naturally  is)  of  rank 
without  command  in  time  of  war,  suggested  that,  as  there  were  two 
in  nina!  regiments  and  a  company  of  artillery  encamped,  a  nominal 
br.iade  might  be  formed,  of  which  he  claimed  the  command,  and  was 
gratified.  Captain  Anthony  Singleton,  of  Virginia,  commanded  the 
artillery. 

About  this  time,  Colonel  Morgan,  of  Virginia,  whose  heroic  conduct 
under  General  Montgomery  at  Quebec,  General  Gates  at  Saratoga,  and 
in  other  meritorious  actions,  will  secure  him  an  honorable  page  in  the 
history  of  the  war  in  the  north,  arrived  at  camp,  without  command,  and 
with  only  two  or  three  young  gentlemen  attending  him. 

The  perfect  security  which  Lord  Cornwallis  imagined  resulted  to 
his  posts  and  to  the  communications  between  them,  and  the  presump 
tion  that  all  the  lower  part  of  the  country  was  in  a  state  of  absolute 
subjection  and  tranquillity,  in  consequence  of  his  extraordinary  not  to 
say  accidental  success,  induced  him  to  send  a  small  guard  from  Cam- 
den  to  convey  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  his  prisoners,  principally  regu 
lars,  to  Charleston. 

Colonel  Marion,  of  South  Carolina,  who  has  been  mentioned  in  the 
previous  part  of  these  narratives,  and  who  ought  always  to  be  men 
tioned  with  respect,  had  been  stimulating  his  countrymen  to  act  in 
concert  with  General  Gates,  until  after  the  unfortunate  16th  of  August, 
when  he  and  his  followers  were  obliged  to  secrete  themselves  in  the 
swamps  and  deserts  which  intersect  a  considerable  part  of  the  lower 
country.  From  one  of  these  hiding-places  Marion  suddenly  fell  upon 
the  British  guard,  surprised,  and  made  the  whole  of  them  prisoners. 
He  paroled  the  officers,  and  took  a  list  of  the  privates  to  be  exchanged. 
The  American  soldiers  he  sent  off,  with  proper  guides,  to  Wilmington, 
having  first  distributed  among  them  the  arms  of  their  captors.  A  cir 
cumstance  so  honorable  for  a  small  squad  of  militia,  particularly  for 
their  commanding  officer,  ought  long  to  be  remembered  with  adinira* 
tioii.  Marion  and  hid  men  retook  to  the  swampa, 


SOUTHERN   ARMY EVENTS   SUBSEQUENT   TO   1780.        3S9 

On  the  report  in  camp  of  Ihis  fortunate  event,  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Commandant  Ford,  who  had  not  availed  himself  of  the  permission  for 
supernumeraries  to  return  home,  went  to  Wilmington  to  meet  the  re 
leased  captives,  and  to  conduct  them  to  camp;  but  as  they  had  been 
subject  to  very  little  or  no  control  after  their  releasement,  being  witii- 
out  any  of  their  own  officers,  and  doubting  of  the  existence  of  any  con 
siderable  body  of  their  fellow-soldiers,  many  of  them  repaired  home 
with  all  the  expedition  they  could  make.  Colonel  Ford  did  not  re 
cover  more  than~about  one  half  of  the  number  released  by  Marion; 
and  these,  from  their  sufferings  in  captivity,  their  long  and  circuitous 
march  from  Cainden  to  Wilmington,  and  thence  by  Cross  creek  to 
Hillsborough,  and  their  want  of  almost  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  were 
very  little  fit  for  service. 

While  the  American  troops  were  collecting  at  Hillsborough,  meas 
ures  were  taken  by  the  state  of  North  Carolina  to  expedite  the  embody 
ing  of  the  second  class  of  their  militia. 

To  intimidate  the  people  from  complying  with  the  requisitions  of 
government  to  collect  forage  and  provisions,  and  probably  with  an  ex 
pectation  of  striking  terror  through  the  country,  Lord  Cornwallis  moved 
from  Cainden  (in  October)  with  a  considerable  body  of  troops,  lightly 
equipped,  which  he  led  immediately  to  the  town  of  Charlotte,  and 
thence  manoeuvred  about  the  country  as  far  north  as  Phifer's  mills. 
But,  although  his  lordship  could  and  would  go  where  he  pleased,  he 
found  himself  much  less  at  ease  in  this  part  of  the  country  than  in  any 
other  situation  he  had  experienced.  The  militia  of  Mecklenberg  and 
of  Roan,  the  most  inflexible  whigs  in  the  whole  state,  were  continually 
in  his  presence.  He  could  make  no  movement  without  being  ob 
served  ;  no  negligence  could  be  committed  on  his  part  of  which  they 
did  not  take  advantage.  Major  Davie,  with  his  mounted  volunteers, 
equipped  as  dragoons,  sometimes  intercepted  his  convoys  of  provis 
ions,  sometimes  disturbed  his  pickets,  and  even  once  or  twice  in- 
suited  the  van  of  his  army  on  its  march.  These,  however,  were 
feeble  and  ineffectual  resistances.  His  lordship  could  "  go  where  he 
pleased." 

This  incursion  of  his  lordship  into  the  strongest  part  of  the  state 
stimulated  the  exertions  of  the  legislature  in  measures  to  organize  and 
equip  their  militia  for  the  field.-  They  began  to  rendezvous  in  consid 
erate  numbers  at  Salisbury.  Smaliwood  was  complimented  with  a 
request  of  the  executive  to  take  command  of  them,  CaswelPs  confi 
dence  in  the  courage  of  his  countrymen  not  being  yet  restored  ;  and  it 
was  presumed  that  the  militia  would  act  with  more  subordination  and 
perhaps  with  more  bravery  under  a  continental  general  than  under  one 
">f  their  own  neighbors.  After  making  some  conditions  about  horses 
hi  himself  and  his  suite,  the  general  accepted  the  honor. 

At  the  same  time  it  was  contemplated  to  send  forward  as  many  of 
the  regular  troops  as  could  be  tolerably  equipped  for  service;  audit 
fortunately  happened  that  at  that  time  the  state  agents  had  forwarded 


390  APPENDIX. 

to  Hillsborough  a  small  supply  of  coarse  clothing  and  other  articles 
convenient  for  the  purpose. 

General  Gates  ordered  a  committee  to  attend  to  the  equitable  distri 
bution  of  these  stores  among  the  regular  corps.  But  first,  an  appro 
priation  was  to  be  made  for  equipping  four  companies  of  light  infantry 
to  be  drafted  from  the  regiments,  and  destined  to  form  a  part  of  the 
corps  to  be  sent  in  advance. 

The  execution  of  this  part  of  the  plan  commenced  on  the  19th  of 
October,  the  day  the  clothing  arrived,  and  was  very  soon  completed. 
The  four  companies  of  infantry  were  formed  into  one  battalion,  the 
command  of  which  was  obtained  by  Lieutenant-Colonel  Howard. 

About  the  2d  of  November,  Lieutenant-Colonels  White  and  Wash 
ington  came  to  camp  with  a  very  few  effectives  of  the  first  and  third 
regiments  of  dragoons,  which  had  also  been  surprised,  routed,  defeated, 
and  cut  to  pieces,  the  preceding  spring.  YViiite  had  leave  to  go  to 
Philadelphia,  and  Washington  remained  in  command  of  the  remnants 
of  both  corps,  consisting  of  sixty  or  seventy  effectives. 

These  corps  joined  the  light  infantry  on  their  march  toward  Char 
lotte.  A  small  corps  of  riflemen  (say  sixty),  under  Major  Rose,  had 
also  joined  the  light  infantry  at  Hiilsborough.  The  gallant  Colonel 
Morgan  then  took  the  command  of  ail  the  light  troops,  and  proceeded 
with  them  toward  Charlotte.  He  found  the  militia,  under  Smaliwood, 
advanced  as  far  as  the  Old  Trading  ford  on  the  Y  ad  kin  river,  seven 
miles  from  Salisbury,  in  safety.  Lord  Cornwallis,  without  any  known 
adequate  cause,  thought  proper  to  retire  through  Charlotte,  cross  the 
Wateree  river,  and  encamp  at  Winnsborough.  It  is  not  probable  that 
he  was  deceived  by  any  exaggerated  account  of  the  newly-levied  mili 
tia,  nor  is  it  probable  that  he  had  any  fears  from  the  relics  of  the  corps 
which  he  had  so  recently  cut  to  pieces.  His  lordship  had  been  fa 
tigued  by  the  insolence  of  the  volunteers,  and  chose  to  retire  to  a  camp 
of  repose. 

Colonel  Williams  succeeded  General  Smallwood  in  the  command  of 
the  brigade  of  continental  troops.  The  diminution  of  its  numbers,  by 
the  draft  of  four  companies  of  light  infantry,  was  in  part  restored  by 
the  arrival  of  recruits  from  Maryland  arid  Virginia.  These  were  con 
stantly  at  the  drill.  A  laboratory  was  erected,  and  employed  in  mend 
ing  arms  ;  and  the  residue  of  the  clothing,  &c.,  was  distributed.  Each 
man  in  the  brigade  was  supplied  with  one  new  shirt,  a  short  coat,  a 
pair  of  woollen  overalls,  a  pair  of  shoe?,  and  a  hat  or  a  cap.  The 
dividend  of  blankets  was  very  inadequate  to  the  occasion  ;  they  were 
apportioned  to  the  companies :  and  every  other  practicable  provision 
was  made  to  prepare  the  brigade  for  the  field.  The  officers  exerted 
themselves,  arid  the  soldiers  were  emulous  who  should  be  the  first  in 
readiness  to  march.  Even  the  convalescents  were  impatient  of  being 
left  behind,  so  generally  had  the  martial  spirit  revived  in  the  soldiery. 

The  brigade  marched  on  the  second  day  of  November,  immediately 
tiler  the  light  dragoons,  with  two  brass  field-pieces,  some  ammunition- 


SOUTHERN  ARMY EVENTS    SUBSEQUENT   TO    1780.        391 

wagons,  and  a  small  train  of  baggage.     They  followed  the  route  of  the 
light  infantry  to  Charlotte,  where  they  encamped. 

The  militia  under  Smallwood  had  apparently  taken  a  permanent 
position  at  Providence,  about  fourteen  miles  south  of  Charlotte  ;  and 
Morgan,  now  brigadier-general,  was  itinerant  with  his  infantry  about 
the  Wateree. 

Lord  Cornwallis  continued  with  the  principal  part  of  his  forces  at 
Winnsborough,  and  kept  up  the  garrisons  of  Camden  and  Clermont. 

Such  were  the  relative  situations  of  the  two  armies,  when  General 
GREENE  arrived  at  Charlotte,  on  the  4th  of  December,  1780. 

CHARLOTTE. — When  General  Gates  had  reviewed  and  contemplated 
his  situation  at  Charlotte,  he  considered  it  the  most  eligible  place  to  en 
camp  for  the  winter  with  the  principal  part  of  his  army.  The  light 
troops  were  to  keep  the  field,  and  to  act  as  an  advance-guard.  With 
this  view,  he  ordered  preparations  to  be  made  for  building  huts,  and 
directed  General  Morgan  to  make  a  foraging  excursion  toward  Cam- 
den.  On  the  very  day  of  General  Greene's  arrival,  and  after  he  had 
assumed  the  command  of  the  army,  Morgan  reported  that  he  had  made 
a  tour  into  the  country,  in  the  vicinity  of  Camden,  but  found  the  cattle 
were  taken  off,  and  so  little  grain  or  forage  left,  as  to  make  it  scarcely 
worth  the  fatigue  of  the  troops ;  but  that,  fortunately,  an  event  had 
taken  place  which  made  some  compensation  for  their  toil. 

Mr.  Hugely,  proprietor  of  the  farm  ca'led  Clermont,  had  obtained 
the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  British  army,  and  had  obtained 
that  of  major  for  his  son-in-law.  These  two  officers,  with  about  one 
hundred  British  troops  and  new  levies,  occupied  a  large  log  barn  (the 
old  council-chamber),  which  they  fortified  by  a  slight  entrenchment 
and  a  line  of  abattis,  so  as  to  render  it  impregnable  to  small-arms. 
This  post  was  on  the  left  of  Morgan's  route,  as  he  returned  from  for 
aging,  but  too  near  to  Camden  for  him  to  risk  anything  like  a  siege  or 
blockade.  It  was  suggested  thai  the  cavalry  might  go  and  reconnoitre 
it.  Washington,  pleased  with  the  idea,  approached  so  near  as  to  as 
certain  that  the  enemy  had  discovered  him  and  were  intimidated.  He 
humorously  ordered  his  men  to  plant  the  trunk  of  an  old  pine-tree,  in 
the  manner  of  a  field-piece,  pointing  toward  the  garrison;  at  the  same 
time,  dismounting  some  of  his  men  to  appear  as  infantry,  and  display 
ing  his  cavalry  to  the  best  advantage,  he  sent  a  corporal  of  dragoons 
to  summon  the  commanding  officer  to  an  immediate  surrender.  The 
order  was  executed  in  so  firm  a  manner,  that  Co'onel  Rugely  did  not 
hesitate  to  comply  instantly ;  and  the  whole  garrison  marched  out 
prisoners-of-war. 

The  corporal  was  made  a  sergeant  of  dragoons;  the  old  fort  was  set 
on  fire  ;  and  Washington  retired  with  his  prisoners  without  exchanging 
a  shot. 

Soldiers,  like  sailors,  have  always  a  little  superstition  about  them. 
Although  neither  General  Gates  nor  General  Greene  could  be  con 
sidered  as  having  any  agency  in  this  little  successful  affair,  it  was  re- 


392  APPENDIX. 

garded  by  some,  and  even  mentioned,  as  a  presage  of  the  future  good 
fortune  which  the  army  would  derive  from  the  genius  of  the  latter. 
But  I  have  superseded  my  old  friend  rather  abruptly,  and  with  almost 
as  little  ceremony  as  it  was  directed  by  Congress.  As  I  approach  the 
close  of  this  narrative,  I  assume  the  epistolary  style,  in  which  I  intend 
to  make  all  my  future  remarks,  as  they  may  thus  be  more  easily  tran 
scribed  for  communication. 

The  letters  which  were  addressed  to  Congress,  respecting  the  over 
throw  of  his  whole  army,  were  so  vague  and  unsatisfactory,  and  others 
which  were  written  were  so  disingenuous,  that  it  was  conceived  by 
Congress  absolutely  requisite  to  have  a  full  inquiry  into  the  circum 
stances  of  the  campaign  and  the  conduct  of  the  commanding  officer. 

General  Washington  was  requested  to  nominate  an  officer  to  super 
sede  General  Gates;  and  it  was  resolved  that  a  court  of  inquiry  should 
be  held,  of  which  Major-General  the  Baron  Steuben  was  appointed 
president.  General  Greene,  whom  General  Washington  distinguished 
by  an  election  to  the  command  of  the.  southern  army,  arrived  at  head 
quarters,  as  before  observed,  on  the  4th  of  December,  1780,  with  full 
Dowers. 

A  manly  resignation  marked  the  conduct  of  General  Gates  on  the 
arrival  of  his  successor,  whom  he  received  at  headquarters  with  that 
liberal  and  gentlemanly  air  which  was  habitual  to  him. 

General  Greene  observed  a  plain,  candid,  respectful  manner,  neither 
betraying  compassion  nor  the  want  of  it ;  nothing  like  the  pride  of  offi 
cial  consequence  even  seemed.  In  short,  the  officers  who  were  present 
had  an  elegant  lesson  of  propriety  exhibited  on  a  most  delicate  and 
interesting  occasion. 

General  Greene  was  announced  to  the  army  as  commanding  officer 
by  General  Gates ;  and  the  same  day  General  Greene  addressed  the 
army,  in  which  address  he  paid  General  Gates  the  compliment  of  con 
firming  all  his  standing  orders. 

The  detention  of  the  baron  Steuben  in  Virginia,  and  no  major-gen 
eral  being  present  or  authorized  to  serve  in  his  stead,  made  it  impracti 
cable  to  hold  the  court  of  inquiry  at  this  time  or  place.  General  Gates 
therefore,  with  the  approbation  of  General  Greene,  repaired  to  Phila 
delphia,  in  order  to  meet  the  charges  and  to  counteract  the  calumnies 
against  him. 

I  can  not  conclude  this  narrative  without  remarking  that  a  soldier's 
fame  is  always  precarious  during,  his  life.  If  General  Gates  had  fallen 
at  the  commencement  of  the  action  of  Camden,  who  would  not  have 
acceded  to  the  opinion  that  the  disasters  of  the  day  were  owing  prin 
cipally  to  that  circumstance  1  The  laurels  of  Saratoga  would  have 
been  ever  green  on  his  tomb,  and  history  would  have  exulted  in  the 
merits  of  the  hero  ! 

What  difference,  in  point  of  real  merit,  would  there  have  been  (or 
could  there  be)  between  falling  by  an  early,  accidental  shot,  or  submit 
ting  to  the  irresistible  impulse  of  the  militia,  who  went  like  a  torrent 


SOUTHERN    ARMY EVENTS    SUBSEQUENT    TO   1780.         393 

from  the  field,  forcing  almost  everything  before  them  ?  And  yet,  what 
a  difference  in  the  public  opinion  !  Instead  of  praises,  panegyric,  and 
monumental  honors,  he  was  censured,  calumniated,  and  even  con 
demned,  unheard. 

The  severity  of  this  treatment  was  aggravated  by  a  recent  event, 
which  was  carefully  kept  from  his  knowledge  while  in  camp,  but 
which  too  soon  overwhelmed  him  in  distress.  His  only  son,  an  ele 
gant  young  man,  well  educated,  and  just  entering  into  active  scenes 
of  life,  was  suddenly  cut  off  by  the  stroke  of  death. 

None  but  an  unfortunate  soldier,  and  a  father  left  childless,  could 
assimilate  his  feelings  to  those  of  this  unhappy  gentleman ;  yet  many 
sympathized  with  him,  remembered  his  former  public  services,  wished 
for  the  return  of  tranquillity  to  his  afflicted  mind,  and  hoped  even  for  a 
restoration  of  his  honors. 

General  Greene  took  great  pains  to  collect  the  best  information  rela 
tive  to  the  circumstances  of  the  late  campaign ;  and  his  communica 
tions  to  influential  characters  finally  determined  Congress  to  rescind 
thHr  resolution  respecting  General  Gates,  and  to  re«*ny»  him  to  bit 
command  in  the  northern  army. 


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